i think there is--even if it's small--a probability that he will come across this crumpled blog/trashy page of my twitter account and scrolling down everything until the very last page. reads every little thing i wrote, that i'm writing it now at the current moment.
reads what did i do on this date, on that time, in what month. what was my special occasion, what was being on my mind, what was bothering me. maybe he will also see all the stupid selcas i shared here. laughing and facepalming by himself. keeps trying to hold down the super wide grin forming on his fascinating face. perhaps, there is also time when he comes to wondering who is this guy i keep wailing for.
it is you.
you don't know just how much--at this moment--i want to scream until my throat becomes sore right in front of your face.
"all this time, it has always been you. after all this time and now it is still you."
every glimpse of you, you have no idea how much my knees become so wobbly. those seconds of staring contest between us, i should have told you how it is affecting my lungs. the portrait of your back that i could only admire secretly, hidden behind the girls at class who keep shouting admiration towards you.
you should have known how much i want you to hold the real conversation with me. how much i want to hear you calling my name. how is that going to sound from your mouth...
and by the way, i still clearly remember every conversation we made the chats. eventhough i keep closing and ending the history, my mind won't do the same.
