These are the stories kept hidden in the depths of this blog. I never got the chance *or the emotion, yes* to finish them. But I had to put them out there because they tell stories that I will probably remember without the need to look back. Failed romances bring out the best and the worst of us. I just wish these weren't just fragments of the beautiful memories and the haunting nightmares of the thing we all love and hate: the past. Hand on heart, I wish there's more to them.




"You played with my heart,"
"Well, I've got the reputation. Didn't I?"


He held a pack of cigarettes in one hand and alcohol on the other. His eyes were dry and reddish and he looked at me with pleading, wasted admiration. Drowned in the whispers of everyone else around us he said "I love you,"

All I could ever muster was "I'll try,"


"You have to know that I will lie to you, because I couldn't bear to tell you the truth. You have to know that I will not always be as sweet as you want to be, because that's not who I am. You have to know that I will sometimes forget about texting you or calling you, because you're not always on my mind. You have to know a great deal of Nos coming your way, because I'm not the kind who always say yes."

"Okay."


"I want to paint you naked."
"Isn't it enough that I bare you my soul?"


I will write so many stories about you, about how much I feel for you, and you will know nothing about them.

I am a writer. I am supposed to have a word for everything, but I have no word to describe what I feel for you. I am a writer. I am supposed to recount my feelings through words. But I have too many feelings for you that a paragraph won't be enough to describe them.

So I will write about you, because you give me a lot of them.
I will write about you, as you write about someone else.
I will write about you, as you try to forget about everything that used to matter.
I will write about you even if it means writing a whole damn book.


Is it bad that I know what I deserve? I want a clean state. I don't want to look at someone and remember that they belonged to someone else.

I know what I deserve, and I know how much a "No" hurts.


"I'm with her, but I love you,"
"I'm not the one with a decision to make,"


He told me I'm nice and that he likes me. By now my heart should have been flustered and my stomach should have been doing somersaults but instead I'm running the opposite direction. He's not supposed to like me because I'm nice,"


"But I did what everyone else failed to do, I stayed."