....

If only... we could summon the objects of our thoughts for real. When I miss him so much, it's just... it'd be better if his smile is something more than a mere memory in the back of my eyelids. "Nothing more"... those words are so bitter they hurt. Wishing distance could be lessened, could be graspable, could be fit within one's palm of hand. Wishing for things which couldn't be. Wishing for him to suddenly appear in front of you again. Wishing that you two could have another go, another chance to continue your own memories, making vague moments become more vivid, a chance to make them as real as they could be.

I'm stupid when it comes to love. I'm a fool. I can only regret and this hurts. This regret is eating me alive. It leaves me empty, aching. So many chances have gone wrong, probably all my fault, and that knowledge is something I can't quite digest because it's too painful.

Then it becomes unfair. It feels unfair because, hey, why does it seem that other people could obtain their happiness so easily like storybooks? How could they easily meet their destined ones and be happy? At this moment I don't particularly care about the untold story behind their smiles. I don't care if they undergo suffering too - because the fact is, they still are able to meet the right person and fall in love and it still screams unfair to me.

I hope this phase will be over soon.