Friday, April 19, 2013


It hurts in the morning, it hurts when I go to sleep. It hurts to think I might be lying somewhere dead and he would know nothing about it. It hurts when I know where he is and I can't see him, can't touch him. It hurts to think the world of him when I am nothing to him.

I am nothing.

It hurts to hear his lies, and repeat them all over again. It hurts to suspect he's a jerk, and then know for sure he's a jerk, and all I can do is to be helplessly captivated by his charm. It hurts to trace any news about him, to calculate your every past word and move, and know you can't undo them. And it's not exactly like undoing them will get him to love you.

It hurts to blame yourself for feelings you have no control over. It hurts to think you might end up all alone till the end of your days, deprived of his kindness, deprived of his wit, deprived of his humour.

It hurts to breathe when you're heartbroken.

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