I hate the anguish I withstand each and every time I get reminded of you. I hate it so much that I just want to grit my teeth and chuck the thought away as quick as it comes, and I hate it so bad that I could just fall apart instead. Every attempt to run away and elude from every unnecessary incident-flashback makes my head spin so bad that I wish it'd bleed to its end. And no, suicide hasn't struck me. Thinking tires me and I wish I haven't been thinking and haven't thought, because I hate thinking. I would love to discard every single thought, but the thinking just flows. It's not my fault that I think the amount I do; I'm not to blamed that I think the way I do.

He could leave for a better place, a better person, a better life or even a better reason. He should leave because I think he should, and I think it wouldn't matter if he thought it'd matter or not. He must leave, or else I might think until I'll finally run out of thoughts of him, and maybe I'll go crazy. Speculation after speculation, thought after thought, but there is no conclusion to this insane envisage of mine, this delirious obsession. I was thinking of you and I couldn't get rid of this love-hate thought.

I don't like Saturdays. I never did fancy Saturdays ever since that particular Saturday you spent watching re-runs at my place. Saturdays remind me of you; your lady-killer smile, with your huge hands (they're huge only because mine are small), the way you hung your shoulders down just to pick up the cushions. Your lips, they remind me of the incidents when you cover your dry chapped lips just so I wouldn't embarrass you by seeing it. I love it when you subtly request for me to stay behind just to stay by you the entire night to watch you meet deadlines. Your smiles; the tiny zaps sensation-effect to every upturn curve faintly drawn drives my heart crazy.

I miss every little thing.