Wednesday, April 1, 2015


Someone once told me that we are damned to remember the things that never really happened.
Those expensive sneakers I wanted as a boy, that motorcycle I wished I drove, that business deal I aspired to sign, that person I dreamt to share a roof with, and other thoughts were all engraved in my head like tombstones.

I walked through memory lane so many times, it became run-down like a pilgrimage passage. I was familiar with each pebble and every single piece of sand on that road. And I still walk it even if it led to the same way and even if we never crossed paths.

I hated her.
I hated her when she lied.
I hated her when she stopped caring.
I hated her for making me love her so hard.

I hated myself for pinching her whenever she made fun of me.
I hated myself for getting angry at her.
I hated myself for believing she'll be mine forever.
I hated myself for wanting her so bad.

I hated her and mostly I hated myself because we kept on choosing each other again and again, yet we gave up in the end.

Two girlfriends and five years later, I still love her.
And if they dusted my soul for fingerprints, hers are the only ones they'd find.