There is nobody to talk to, so I'm here now. Do you think you could hear me out, and help me? Even a pat on the back will do, or a knock on the crown of my head. Even a light slap across the cheek will do.
I think I am quite incapable of love.
Seeing him again, I now understand the difference between a person who is loved and a person who is trapped. In the four years we have been together, I do not think I've seen a smile as bright as the one he wears these days. Perhaps I only thought I had loved him, when in reality, I am a person with no love to give.
Maybe that's why I always end up alone.
I've met someone new too, who I really like. But I'm scared. I'm not sure whether I am able to pick up another stone and start building another fortress only for it to wear down as a result of my own negligence.
The truth is always clammed up. Only sighs follow the silence and silence follows the long sighs. I'm tired.
Why do I have to be so serious all the time? To make up for the void, as if I am of a substance that is not empty.
What do I want?
When there is nobody to stretch my soul to its breaking point, I am perfectly fine in my bubble of solitude. Because there is no need to think of my shortcomings as a lover, and the lack of love that exists in my heart.
Right now, I am flying a kite in the summer breeze. By the ocean I run with its thread, the sun in my eyes that I can barely see. Before long the breeze would turn into the wind that blows it farther up into the sky, further out to sea until it is swallowed by the horizon where the two meet.
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