“Why did you disappear?”

“The thing is, you probably never cared for me at all.

You asked me why did I still like you. I stared at you for a long while and I couldn’t come up with an answer, because even you were well aware that you didn’t treat me right.

You don’t celebrate my triumphs; not when I got my driving license nor when I pulled myself to second upper. I no longer want to tell you of my troubles, because you made them sound so insignificant, as if my feelings were invalid. You’re not interested in my stories of people who had made an impact on me; only in those that featured you as a lead character, be it a hero or a villain, as long as I make you sound like you had influence over my life. I just feel as if… I’m just part of your personal statistics of women who were intoxicated with the idea of you.

But then you moved on to mock the person I used to be, and confessed that you only texted me when you’re bored back then. It killed the young girl who naively thought that there was at least some redeeming qualities about herself that she had that she bartered for a friendship with you. And I think she was the one who had those feelings for you, so along with her death I am free from the illusion of loving you.

When I despairingly sighed that I am a sucker for you, you were pleased and replied “well, that’s good for me”. If it was someone else I think a true friend would warn me to stay the hell away from such a jerk, but with your vested interests you rather let me self-destruct than to keep me a safe distance away.

I always knew that nothing good will come out of hoping you’ll change for me, but now there’s nothing to keep me from leaving.”

I don’t think I mattered enough for you to question my disappearance, so I held an imaginary conversation with you in an alternative world where I pretended that you cared enough to ask.

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Goodbye

For the longest time I didn’t know what I wanted from you. I guess I was hoping maybe one day you’ll realise that I’m a great person you’ll want to date, or was it our friendship that I cherished, or simply that you were a model of what I wanted to grow up to be.

I asked you what you liked about me, and you said there’s nothing that you not like about me; apparently I wasn’t clingy or naggy or whatever that turns you off. In your answer, I found mine:

I don’t want anything from you anymore. You will never treat me the way I deserve to be treated, because you’re too selfish to consider my feelings. We are no longer friends because I no longer trust to be vulnerable with you. And i never want to be someone like you, a person who don’t see people as people but merely as temporary beings. All you wanted was a pet dog in an attractive female human form, and I respect myself too much to degrade to that.

You don’t know how to love people, and from the day you broke my heart I no longer have that in me to show and teach you.

Rather than goodbyes, we say “see you later”. 

And I really liked that, the faint hint of a possibility that we may just meet again. That we can continue our lives yet still have each other in our hearts. 

But I guess words are only words, and like everything else you had said to me, didn’t really matter. I held them close and they dissolved and seeped into my blood like poison. And I kept replaying the last time we kissed and wondering if you had already decided by then that you no longer wish to see me.

All I ever wanted out of you is to let me feel like you care for me. I wish you at least had the decency to pretend till I’m gone.

Lately I’d been feeling sad

And I worry that this sadness will follow me for a long long time. It’s funny how Hong Kong activates my tear glands and how easy it is nowadays to be struck by a random bout of sadness with a strong urge to hug myself and cry. And how I love that I’m yet another stranger in this densely populated city so I can weep in peace among the scurrying crowds because they don’t care and I know I’ll be alright in a couple of minutes anyway.

I always thought I love too much and too little, but recently I’m thinking maybe only the former hold true. Too overly attached to people who don’t deserve to be makes me excessively upset, questioning if there’s something wrong with me that withheld them from loving me back. And feeling like a fucking idiot for wrongly assuming that they like me more than they actually do. 

I like to think that I’m super fortunate to meet all the awesome people I had met but I think my luck is running out.