Period.
I hate changes.
Not all changes. I welcome good changes. Like changes in weather (from really gloomy and rainy, to bright and sunny), changes in my curfew time (I can now sleep whenever I want), and changes in my bed sheets (I love having a fresh set)!
But really, I’m more of a person who’d like to keep things the way they are. I guess if I were a plant, I grow my roots too soon that it’s so hard for me to be uprooted and re-planted all the time.
When we go to McDonald’s, I always order the Double Cheese Burger meal. I get really attached to my pens that at first, I find it hard to replace them with new ones. Same goes for my diaries. I can’t give away old shirts and other clothings because of the memories they hold. I keep wrappers and lollipop sticks, Christmas tags on presents, and even broken ID holders.
Migrating had been a big enough change that it almost drove me insane. I immediately stuck to the routine I have now. I can’t sleep earlier than 1AM now because I’m used to killing enough time to catch my friends back at home online. I know it’s not healthy, but I’m going to try and sleep late a little less often. I have the new knowledge that cardiovascular exercises in the morning are more effective than when done in the afternoons like what I usually do. That should be enough to inspire me to sleep early and wake-up early.
My mother has a part-time job now and my dad is grilling me on the fact that I am now the second mother.
I don’t want to be a second mother. I’m fine being the big sister! I don’t want to be any kind of mother yet for that matter!
Because it’s the first day of that time of the month again, I’m attributing my hyper-sensitivity to my female hormones. I tend to exaggerate things a lot, and although I know somehow I’m going to get over this whole second mom thing, I still feel upset.
I want to be a reckless teenage daughter! Not a mother!
Going back to everything that is exaggerated, it did not help that I remembered that today is the one-year anniversary of the Endo-Escapade day with my Zahir.
Hm, maybe from now on, I will refer to him as my Zahir.
Speaking of, my Zahir has made his presence known to me via the online world. Amazing that right now, we are both sitting in front of our computer screens, typing away.
Sadly, not to each other. But oh well.
He already knew I was leaving. It was ironic that the movie we watched was about a girl leaving as well. She was madly in love with her boyfriend, and the same goes for the guy. But in the end, they decided to end their relationship, on the hopes of letting each other grow, and maybe someday, they can come back to each other’s arms.
Have I mentioned how hopelessly romantic I am?
That’s the thing with keeping diaries. At least you can replay over and over and over again moments in life that are over.
Or not. I mean, I just thought that maybe diaries are my downfall. Instead of moving on, I am anchored to my past. I am so attached to my Zahir even if he told me not to be.
Sorry.
But then again, I have nothing to do here so I get to think about it all day, everyday. I never get tired of reliving those moments we were together. And what’s worse? When I dream of him, I feel him! I feel his touch! I feel his hand holding mine, with his arms around me.
He probably moved on already. And why shouldn’t he? Maybe I’m not his God’s best. Maybe he’s not my God’s best.
But it’s so cruel to think that I’d get over him soon as I find someone new to focus all these energy on. No. It shouldn’t happen like that.
“The truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back.” -Sweet Home Alabama
Will my story end up that way?
