This is hella harder than I thought. It always feels like there's a big lump in my throat everytime I think of the what-could've-beens. Everyday, thinking of him with her, is a real suicide. I've always wanted it to be me. I've always dreamed of watching the night sky and the galaxy with him, as i lean on his chest, lying down the sandy beach, listening to every breath passing out each mouth and to the rhythm made by our hearts. I want it to be me. I want to be the one who cooks him burnt egg and toast, make him supersaturated coffee in the morning and salty dessert. I've always wanted it to be me. I wanted to be that one who he calls first when he gets his promotion in work, who he runs to when a rough day hit him. Coz I would gladly be his comfort and refuge. I want it to be me. I want to see the whole world with him, the northern lights I've always wanted to see...with him. Did any of these ever came to his mind? I guess not. But i always wanted it to happen. I've always wanted him. I've always loved him. But now, I'm only intertwining my hand with a shadow, lay down with the stars with a wind.
