Maybe that is the saddest part of your story

He just waited for you to leave, to give up, to lose hope.

But you didn't. You will not.

But he already thought you finally did.

"Everyone is leaving the past, and you want me to stay?" I asked.

I hope you wouldn't feel the same way like I do.

I hope no one will leave you in the mid air while you are falling endlessly on the little things she did for you. I hope you will not doubt all the signals she sent to you. I hope you will not sleep at night overthinking the what ifs that could possibly happen. I hope your dreams will be pure dreams and that fear of losing her in reality won't come hunting you there. I hope you will not take risk if she doesn't have any plans to be in danger, because most likely, you will end up being alone in that danger. I hope her past won't make you feel any envious because you can give her love and all the past just gave her a different bunches of anger and madness and bitterness. Remember, you can give her love more than any other man could.

And while the butterflies in your stomach make creepy sounds while she stares at you, I hope you will not remember my eyes the first time you fell in love with me.

And while you heart flutters  because you make her laugh at the jokes you used to tell me, I hope you will not remember the smile I plastered on my face and how my dimpled cheeks becomes more rounded when you did all the little things to make me fall in love with you.

I hope she will choose you over and over again--the thing that you never did to me.

But if she won't, I hope you wouldn't feel the same way like I do.

I was never interested, I realized.

I ran, chased every tick of the clock afraid of not getting there on time, smiled at the person I just met, and answered the grammar exam like it was my quiz in Mathematics. I was even shaking during the typing exam. I was nervous during interview.

But I was never interested.

It feels weird though. The moment I heard about the company, all I thought was to get a resume and send it there. I never did a background check about the company, nor checking the possible salary I will be getting, and even the nationality of the students never came into my mind not until today.

After the HR congratulated me, I realized I don't want to have job nor the idea of getting this job or not.

And it hit me.

All the days I kept coming back in that building, running, smiling, hoping to give a shot, were all meant to be that way. I made those efforts because I should. But not because I wanted to work there.

It was because of the eagerness of emptying one's mind-- my mind. I was athirst of vacating all the thoughts inside my head, but the only way to null it is to fill it with thoughts I am not interested with.

Hopeless, as you see, unconsciously doing the things I never wanted to do just to forget the whole existence of this misery.

What do I expect? Sadness comes when you think you have almost escaped it. But fleeing is ephemeral. When sadness knocks your brain, you will always let it in, let it **** the hopes inside your head until there is only an ounce left for tomorrow. That is how it always goes.

My mind wanders,
Still, he is in it.
My heart race faster,
His name is shouted
Beat by beat

And just like any other nights
I am missing him, still.
When morning comes,
He is the kind of hope
I wanna steal.

Her brown eyes and long lashes makes the scene perfect as she blankly stare the air, it's as if she's staring the eyes of her lover.

But her lover wasn't there. She is just staring a blank dead air. She then throw her gaze at me and a tear had fallen.

I sit in front of her.

"How are you?", I asked. Her mouth is shut so she prefers to answer me with another tear.

She must be really terribly broken. Being brokenhearted is not new to her. She already had bad experiences in love but, this pretty worst.

I noticed her new haircut and new hair color. I noticed how she carelessly put her blush on and lipstick. I noticed the thick books she brought with her, desperate in putting herself in the world of thoughts of the authors. I noticed how she terribly dressed herself. I noticed her cheekbones and her swollen eyes.

She looks so terrible but a new one-a new version of herself. But her silence and her mourning brown eyes say it all-that she is not new, just a terrible version of herself.

Maybe she had come to think that if she doesn't look like the girl who fall in love with him, maybe she wouldn't feel the same way like that girl.

But she's wrong. Her state right now is a realization that she can't change her heart nor can fool it. She can't easily erase her feelings for him nor can forget it. So she will still end up-the girl who hopelessly fall in love with her lover.

I can never escaped a hundred of bullets of pain, a 175000 lbs-rocket ship of tears, a 3-tank of long nights and a hydrogen bomb of memories, I said to myself in the mirror.

So I’m gonna let them hit me one at a time and, at all cost, I will savor each ache and bruise. In this way, I will heal.

Because this is the beauty of pain and this is how I define love.