True enough, I know I haven’t moved on yet. I known in myself I still haven’t accepted that sad turn of events. I still have this hope in my heart. I still daydream of him coming back into my arms. I tried. I know I tried real hard to stop hoping. To end reminiscing all that the past has given me. Absolutely, it’s past. So why bother thinking about it, still?
I couldn’t get it though, for no matter how much I try not to bother myself thinking about everything that happened, I’m still caught in the middle. Everyday I try to put my attention to something else, but sad to say, every time I try, I end up wounded, still.
The process of getting there is really hard, as for me. There are times that I even end up bugging my self about going there, but apparently, I just can’t. Maybe because I’m too preoccupied with memories. I tried to preoccupy myself with hatred. But at the end of the day, I can’t help but do love him, still.
Now I’m stuck. Stuck in the middle of nowhere alone. No one to speak out about how I feel. Nobody to share my anguish. No one knows how I’m truly feeling about everything. All I have is my God, who knows nothing but how painful the wounds are. All I have is my God and I, no one else, still.