a little space i call my own

remember me

and she writes...



Dear diary,

i'm so sorry that i tore one page off you. it must have hurt. i've kept it well now. right there. at the back. it's crumbled. but. it's still attached.

i'm hurt too. this sour feeling within. it's growing by the minute. it's overwhelming. you're the only one that knows this. just like the page you've lost, i'm the only one that knows.

i wouldn't say i've lost my page. even if i admit. it's only one page. there are still many pages behind right? =)

i wasn't sure of how he is feeling. i definitely was clear about my own. i really do. but i am also sure that he doesn't carry the same affection that i do. noone actually knew. if anyone knows, they wouldn't care too.

i'm on my own. and of course, there's you.

everything seems fine. you know it. i've been telling you about him. all that had happened. wasn't sure it was meant to be. or not meant to be. he offered help. he cared. he showed promises to take care of me, didn't he?

he offered his hand. i slotted in mine. complex feelings flowed in. i believed it didn't reach him. i was literally gripping on to his hands. he's merely like a walking stick for me to hold on to.

to me, it was a feeling that has not yet happened since a long long time ago.

to him? maybe i'm just a burden. i'm like just somebody else.

so i told him.

"if people were to see, they will talk. if my parents were to see, there's going to be endless of naggings. so it'd be better if you were to let go perhaps?"

it was a suggestion.

he let go.

well, being honest isn't as easy as i've told you. it's hard. but i did it. and i wasn't really glad that i did it...

*circular greyish shapes starts to form on the paper*

i'm hooked...