there will come a day when i’d be the girl my future lover’s ex had been expecting. the one whom she’ll hand him to; all the bittersweet memories, unfulfilled promises, dreams they’ve planned to achieve together, non-existent children, places they’ve never been, the inside jokes, and the scars. i’d be the one she’s so afraid to think of when what they have inevitably comes to an end.

HOLY SHIT, IT WAS THE ORIGINAL ONE

Then our eyes locked. You felt it too, didn’t you? That tiny spark of connection we both felt the moment your eyes found mine and mine found yours. But we were strangers. We’re supposed to disregard the slightest hint of recognition and the urge to run up to each other. We’re supposed to pass by without feeling something. We’re supposed to be nothing but a passing glance and continue whatever the hell we’re doing in our own lives. Strangers are not supposed to look back after crossing each other’s paths.

Time really has its way of making what was once significant become something you don’t have time to think of anymore. One minute you feel alive and the next, you don’t even care. People whom you shared a thousand memories with turn into a passing thought like they didn’t matter. Like they didn’t shape you into who you are now. It’s as if they didn’t make you feel something at some point in your life. And we just go on with our own lives like nothing important happened.

OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT’S BACK ON MY DASH.

sometimes, i still feel the slightest twinge beneath the layers i’ve managed to put up. that tiny hint of pain each time i remember how much i wanted you.

They say nostalgia is a liar, but what if everything really was beautiful? Is it still a liar if every laughter, risky adventures, silly pictures, spontaneous trips, inside jokes, and deep conversations we’ve had were the moments wherein I felt most alive?