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Saturday, November 30, 2013


It was a quiet breakup. So different from the first one we had.

It was just merely a few words.

It was the first time I didn't shed any tears. Or rather, I felt kinda relieve after all these breakup drama.

Quiet enough, I supposed. What's the point of having a big row about it?

And for that moment I gained back the control - Control over my own life, my so called freedom.

Yet when you lost something that you had for years, you started to fidget. You started to feel restless.

Ironic isn't it? The moment I broke free from him and gained back my control, he had again control over me. I had got used to his ways and I almost forgot how it felt like without him nagging and pestering me every single day.

So I went back to my old ways. I did whatever that I wanted to do, and meet with whoever I want to meet, and went out whatever time that I want.

It was the air of freedom that I longed for, I must enjoy it to the fullest.

And so this person came along, and I didn't really consider much. I just go for it.

And together with my long-lost freedom, my victim syndrome came knocking on my door again. I refrained myself so much from being naive, and when I began to have a little faith, the ugly truth unveiled again.

I laughed at myself. It was a mocking laugh.

Why do I have to be such sadist, to torture myself this way. Why do I have to be that naive, when I'm no longer 18 years old?

Apparently my wisdom doesn't grow with my age.

The moment I thought I gained control of my life, I lost control of my life.