galau

where’s my giant eraser?

wish I knew why I’m listening to this list named ‘Sexy Saxophones’ in such late hour and repeating Steve Cole’s “Between Us” while watching a muted soccer match between Uruguay and Ghana. most of all, I wish I knew why you keep crossing over to meet me when I start leaving you far enough?

evil. you know you only need a ‘hello’ to build the whole memory back upright and let me struggle on my own to tear it down for quite a while. you keep doing it over and over again innocently. you always win. you know I just can’t hate you. can’t push you away. can’t reject you.

wish I could just erase you and every details you’ve planted in my life with this huge ‘For Big Mistakes’ eraser. but you’re more than just a word. more than just a written book. you are a memory that keeps on coming alive. wish I were a dictionary with a torn page where your name was on it. gone. but, just like most women, I’m a computer. I can never really delete a thing. they just get blended in the background and rescued for stupid reasons.

just stop reaching out. go. leave me alone.

…and yet, letting go is the best way to hang on to.

shite.

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