We are the dreamers of dreams.

I thought you liked me. I was going to foolishly ask you out before the year ended. I even made it the one and only new year’s resolution I vowed to at least fulfil. But then I found a photo of you with another girl in the club. Bodies so close and hands interlaced so sweetly as you did with mine just 2 weeks before. Tonight, I’m not sure if it’s Jetlag that’s keeping me awake still at 3:30am, or if it’s because my heart feels so broken.

Hey, I don’t know about you, but it’s been a year. A year since you first made love to me. You were a stranger then, and you liked me. What has changed in a year? You’re still as good as a stranger, but I’m not sure you like me anymore. But I do. I like you so much. I just don’t have the courage to tell you. 12.11

Reflecting on this weird thing I have with shan always makes me sad. It always ends up with me wondering if I'm merely another warm body for him to fuck, or if he at least cares somehow, but he just doesn't know how to right it. (Like me). But 90 out of 100 times, I know it's the former. I'm just an object to him, yet I always, always give him what he wants. Because he is always what I want.

I miss you a lot. I really wish we could really be free and comfortable with each other, and say what we really want. I wish we could both reach that potential. But I don't know if we'd ever get the chance to do so if we don't talk anymore...