Poison

[18 Dec]

The poison of being in love cuts down deep and kills you slowly. 

When you know what it's like, that joy and freedom, and suddenly it's snatched from your grasp. 

Over time, you crave for those moments again. 

You do what you can to relive or resurrect those precious times.

But it never happens. 

Only to have the memory haunt and taunt you. 

[20 Dec]

I dreamt that I had you. 

He asked you out for a date, but you told him that I had already asked you. 

Librerating. 

[22 Dec]

It's your birthday today. 

I wished you over WhatsApp. 

You were online the whole time, but only read it 40minutes after. 

And you left me hanging. 

Why do we still go back to the people from the past? Do we not move on, dying to live in the future, unbound from these skeletons that haunt us from days gone by? 

"Say something I'm giving up on you"

Time for a talk with Alison. I can't keep this in me any longer. It kills. This poison that takes us all, in one way or another. And why is it that the antidote for this poison is itself? What logic is this? Do people combat unhappiness with itself? Do people end being overburdened with workload by tasking themselves to accomplish more? Do governments end poverty by spending more?

So why is love the antidote for the lack of itself? I'm haunted by the past, and it's eating me alive.