How you’ve been?
New semester. New plot. I see her again.
I never thought I’d be this overthinking about it. No matter the way I try to keep myself intact, there’s always some part of me wandering everywhere — giving thoughts of how it would’ve been if it has gone differently. I only tell a fraction of people that I broke her — brushing off incoming utterance from others that didn’t know.
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I noticed her gaze once in a while. I don’t know what she feels. Is it grief? Or is it resentment? I would kill to know what it means. Do you feel poignant? Or do you loath me? She said she hate me. Do you still do? Oh forgive me, do I hope not. I’m sorry.
The thing that pulled me towards you, now become the thing that I effortly try to solve. Her glance is like a complex equation — waiting to be derived, but sadly I cannot. I’m just someone who likes to skip math classes, and I hate myself for it.
Every chance I have to see her face, I take it as granted. But it is no longer the same glance we used to reciprocal. It honestly makes me sad. Sure I love pragmatism, but here I’m standing with my good lord of legs shivering from exhaust. For I still miss her.
But no. I learn’t — the hard way. I broke a person. Their pure, milk-white soul. And I won’t forgive my self for it.
خلّى بالك من نفسك
