Some Nights



Some nights I spend watching tv alone in my room.

Some nights I spend writing through an idea for a story I had earlier that day.

Some nights I read a book, I mean, most nights, I read a book and get lost in it. 

Some nights I sleep early. Not to get enough sleep. But to shut myself down and not feel. Just not feel.

And some nights, when sleep doesn’t come, I stay awake and think. 

Sometimes, I cry. Not because I’m sad. Or maybe I am. But it’s just not that.

Those nights when I cry, those are the nights when I feel I’m alone. And then when the thought of being alone sinks in, then I feel lonely.

Sometimes, I just need someone to talk to. Someone to listen. 

Sometimes, I’m tired of being the one who always listens and gives advice. 

Sometimes I want to be the one being comforted. And to be told that everything’s fine, that I’m fine. 


And some nights, I just cry for no reason at all. Or for a reason that I don’t know of. 



A Boat

I won’t admit it. I’ll never. But the years passed by so quickly and I still find myself thinking about you like I shouldn’t be. I was over you. So over you. But you visit my mind ocassionally. Feelings rekindle whenever you talk to me and talk about random madness that I don’t really remember much because It’s either I’m really nervous or just simply drunk.

You confuse me sometimes. I’m utterly convinced that we’re just nothing but friends and that’s instilled in my mind already even if my feelings do fluctuate. I know that we’ll be nothing more. But sometimes, you do things that messes all that up. You make me think that there could be something. You do that, even if you don’t intend to do it. I admit that I liked it when we lay on the floor. With your head on my lower leg. I wanted to brush my fingers through your hair but I didn’t because you might think of something. Those were some of the little things.

But then, I remind myself that all of those are nothing. They don’t have any meaning, no meaning at all. I can’t help wondering sometimes…what if. Then, I remind myself again that it’s impossible. You know, I still miss you. Even though I forget about you. It doesn’t make sense. But what does, when it comes to emotions.

I never got over you, I realized. The feelings still do exist. It’s one of the few constant things in my life, actually. I never stopped caring. Even if I don’t show it. Even if I act like I don’t. Even if I ignore you sometimes and pretend that you don’t exist.
I just let go of my fantasy that we could have something more special than friends have. That we could be together. I let go of that fantasy now. And it will stay forgotten. Because when one’s fantasies are gone, reality hits you like a ten-wheeler truck hits you. And it’s easier to recover that way.