Losing my Rose-Coloured Glasses

I don't know what to do anymore these days.

There isn't enough material to write a blog post, nor can I pull myself together to write something else other than my heartbreak. Study? Oh no, I don't want to because... I just don't want to.

All that I can do these days is cry.

For months I've been doing so. When I still had you, I cried. When I lost you, I cried. I've always wondered why babies cry, but now, I finally got my answer. I feel like I've just stepped into a new world, where everything is unknown to me. I'm lost. I don't know where to go and I can't find my guide; no one's holding my hand anymore. I cry. I cry in hopes that maybe you'll come back and carry me home... No, the tears that stream down my face are the lies that I once comfort myself with.

"It's never too late to make it right..."

WRONG.

It's too late for us.

I'm on a treadmill, unwilling to move forward and afraid of looking at the past. Still stuck at the time when we called it love, I avoid what has become my reality and build up false hopes that I will get you back again. That is why I cry. I know I will never get you back. I want to get you back.

Whenever I approach you now, it hurts. It feels absurd even. I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. You've become something that floats on the border of my sanity. You have died, yet I keep on looking for you, talking to you! This guilty pleasure of mine collapses on me a thousand folds, making me suffer and weep in your absence.

Where has that confidence of mine gone?

Weeks ago, words written boldly in green "I'm going to get you back" were written  by the same hand that is writing this blog post now.

I've lost my motivation.
I've lost my inspiration.

The only thing that's left is my imagination.


I regret nothing as I gave with love and trusted you then. I cry because I've lost my rose-coloured glasses and the feeling of assurance, not because of what you've done. I realise now that everything WAS beautiful. The afternoon sun, the buzzing of the fan, the old sofa set outside, the chirping of birds on the palm trees and the afternoon naps before practices... What was weather when I had you? What was time when you were by my side? What was anything at all when you were mine...

I'm not afraid of separation.
I'm just afraid of you ending up with someone else.

Days have gone by,
weeks have passed,
but my tears have yet to dry and you are still the reason why.