but sometimes, when memories come crashing toward me like a fucking tsunami, I can’t help cursing you and wishing you’re miserable.
I loved you. Actually, there’s a high chance I still do. I kept making excuses for you. I wanted my friends to actually like you. I even considered following you to Canada or Australia or (insert first world non-Asian country here) when all my life the only place I really dreamed of going to was Japan.
It makes me so angry to think I wasn’t worth the effort. That you got into this relationship without proper consideration, even when you had me wait for months, believing you were doing that so when our time comes, we wouldn’t be easily crushed. You made me believe you wanted us to last. You did.
I can’t even look at my inbox now. And as much as I want to delete your thread, I can’t, because, in all honesty, I’m still hoping we’d get another shot.
But on most days, I wonder if it’s even worth giving a second try.
On most days, I just want to fuck you over.
