They say, best work of art is created by those with a troubled heart.
Just a thought. Never mine will be a work of art.
Staring at the PC monitor.
Walking out of the office, staring my reflection at the washroom mirror.
Entering the lift, going down to the ground floor. Entering the washroom and staring at the mirror.
Time stood still, and I am trapped in it.
My mind refuses to think, as when I think, the heart cracks even more.
Especially when I know that I’m the fool to cause the wreck of my life.
Someone dear to me decided to move on.
Flashback images of the nice times together, naturally poured in.
The most painful part has yet to come, when I really realize that this is reality.
Of course, I am in this denial, hoping that at least there is some love left for me.
Holding a crumpled receipt, flattened it, fold it into small piece.
Staring at the empty mug, and the office feels even more cold as the body temperature went a micro degree down.
Forcing myself not to type any sms, not because I am giving up, but because I don’t want him to get dizzy and disturbed again.
Thank you dear dear for always being there.
Thank you dear dear for the million things that you did for me.
Thank you dear dear for your care, when I am sick, when I am lost, when I am in need.
Thank you dear dear for just being there.
There are SO many memories that I share with dear dear.
I love you dear dear.