I let you notice that I care.
I let you know when I'm pissed.
I let you see I leave.
Glad to know that you think I'm sincere. Or what? I'm not sure.
But I will still let myself believe what I feel.
That I am sincere but a human.
That I leave but I miss.
That I don't care but you do.
I'm sorry.
Sorry. Sorry.
There was time I wish you the best.
This time I will be more sincere.
Also, for letting me know, thank you.
I feel like blinded.
But happy.
At ease.
Should I worry?
Maybe I should.
I usually do.
But I am at ease right now.
It's not an exciting one. Nor the sappy silly one. Not also the hurting one.
And I keep wanting to pray for the best for you.
Who cares what happens in the future.
I just want the best for you.
And now I remember this is actually the second time.
To love is to let go.
Never once I think it is as beautiful as it sounds.
Cliché.
But then, this warm courage, what is it?
Busy day.
Busy mind.
I'm thinking about a lot of stuff.
How I am not content about my current life.
What I would do if I were there.
That I miss those short past moments.
And then there is you.
You might not be happy about it.
That you appear not first.
But I am.
That, at a little corner of my crowded mind, I notice, there you are.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Why did you let me discover it by myself, long after what happened?"
... because humans are weak.
There comes the cunning, when they have to seek comforts.
Reality hurts.
