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This is a year of a hundred poems thought of but were never written and were left behind until everything was forgotten.

A year when I held a pen  along with millions of ideas but ended up with a scribble that I just drew out of my consciousness.

A year of letters written by my bleeding heart and tired soul but were never given, never delivered to whom it is due.

A year of typed messages with my sweaty and shaking hands that ended up being deleted and never sent to someone I'm longing for.

A year of flowing tears filled with my inner agony that left my pillow wet, left my cheeks with its trail, and left my heart aching with so much pain.

A year of things left unsaid, words that will never be heard  by anyone  in the face of the earth except for my reflection on the mirror as I cry out to myself.

A year of promises that weren't fulfilled for its not supposed to be done yesterday, now or maybe the entire time.

A year of hugs that weren't felt, nor touched, nor reached the person I wanna give the warmth of love and care.

A year when a thousand different scenarios played on my mind, but  remained there and didn't happen in the reality where I'm living.

A year of feelings that are hidden and kept buried in the deepest part of my heart but hasn't died or even faltered in a slightest way.

A year of regrets that remained as it is because I'm afraid of trying, afraid of failing. Or rather, I'm terrified of taking the risk for I don't want to feel more pain.

This is the year, the very first year, when I  truly learned the word lonely; learned that I am lonely.

This year is ending soon enough, but I still haven't done or said a single thing that might take away all the 'what ifs' in my brain.

This is how I've been for the year two thousand fifteen.

— The End —