Sometimes I think I must be a masochist. Really there is no other explanation. I've argued with myself again and again wondering if in fact I enjoy being miserable. My other half self does not accept it, but I think in time it will.
I have a bad habit, I'm hoping you are free of; I tend to "remember" and "relive". That is I am *re*peating myself and my sentiments. Now isn't that useful? I can be depressed again because of the exact same person, as if he never left. Because he did leave. And I did break. And now I'm breaking again.
I did ask for a sing in a previous post. Of course it didn't come! I mean, come on, people, what did you expect? This is no movie or fairy tale. I should have known, and I did. Oh, but the lingering hope! I really wish I could kill it. No waiting, no healing, no nothing. Just take a good and clear shot and be done with it.
In fact, as I am writing the most depressing thing is that I still believe. Deep down I hope (just die already!) that he will care. That he will call. That I mean something. The question that I'm asking myself (and all of you in similar phases) is that: Are You Still Having Fun? I mean R U? Really?
How were you to know when you've gone astray?
That happiness would go like a lost emotion
You have always gone your way
Are you happy today?
Well you know when you've been defeated
You don't care and you thank no one
Feeling low you will always need it
Are you're having fun
You don't know what is it you've done
You don't know that
And are you still having fun?
Are you still having fun?
