At a time in my life, i felt alone.. like i wasn’t loved.. during my lowest moments, i wrote this little note.. it so happens i stumbled upon it recently.. looking at it now, i’m glad things are not as it used to be.. when you’re done reading, i guess you’ll know why.. happy reading…
There’s a reason that I hate romances. They always remind of the things that I never
had. Love, such an insignificantly small, four lettered word; yet all the people seemed
to be so obsessed over it. Frankly I don’t get it. I don’t get any of it. May be it’s just me,
and my weird self.
I’ve been involved with women, some casual, and some I thought were serious. But I
suppose I never really loved them. I thought I was, and at times I forced myself to feel
that way. I’ve said the same lines to every single girl. They keep asking me why them?
What made them so special to me? And why do I love them? I just merely told them
what they wanted to hear. Does that make me a liar? I suppose so. Does that make
me heinous? I don’t know, maybe it does. I’ve been living in pretense all my life. I’ve
been pretending so much that I’m confused about what I really am. I’ve been lying all my
life, and I’ve lost the truth somewhere along the road.
The truth is that I’ve always kept my feelings in check. Truth is that I’ve kept my
emotions shut. I was five when my dad left my mum, after they had a fight and he hit her.. Most would’ve cried, most would’ve
broken down, most would’ve acted differently than the way I did. I just kept staring at
my mum, not sure what I should feel or how I should feel. People around were giving
me weird looks. Their faces were worried, and their eyes asked “what’s wrong with
that kid?” So I learned from my mistakes. When it was my grandmother’s turn to go to
the other side, I just followed the lead of my relatives. They looked sad, I looked sad.
They started crying, and so did I. even though I wasn’t really sad.
I’ve been called a jerk, a dick, a moron, a loser; none of which I’m denying. I may be all
of those, and probably more. I know inside, that I’ve earned all of them. The facts that
even the relationships that I claimed serious, not lasting for a considerable amount of
time, made me realize that I truly deserve all of them. May be it is because that
inside I’m still a little child. I want toys that I don’t have, and when I finally get them I
just get tired of them, and start looking for a new toy to play with. Or maybe it is just
simply because I’m afraid of commitments.  I am damaged, I know, and probably
beyond anyone’s help.
I am man with little regrets in my life. I neither regret nor resent any encounter I had
with anyone in my life. So why am I writing this? I myself don’t know the reason. May
be I feel guilty for all the lies I’ve said, and all that I made others believe, or maybe I
just felt like getting this off of my chest. I did it all to spare myself of loneliness, and
to get myself distracted from my life itself. I guess I’m a little bit more selfish than I