Dear Andy,
I saw you sitting beside someone when I passed by. We missed the movie, we missed our sunset. I stared intently at your broad back. They have a life of their own when you laugh.
And so, there was me, who chose to let you be. My friend told me you looked at me, but I continued walking. It was a gloomy afternoon anyway. No orange hue. Or anything near it. Heavy. Loaded. Burnt. Cold. Hollow.
That's how it felt like. Our movie faded in the background. Suddenly, it was just me involve. A girl in a one way train to heartbreak villa. Later that day, you still sent me a message. But it wasn't like all else. The shortest of "hellos' and goodnight thrilled me to a certain extent but it failed to fill the gap. It was just me after all. It was just my movie.
Tonight was the real chapter of this ride Andy. Whether I cried a river or just a drop, this waterworks gave out because I was hurting on my own. So that's how you laugh! So that's how you are with people. And who am I to ask you to share that with me?
Andy, there's a thin line between trying and practicality. If you try, it may not work out but you have no regrets. If I'm practical, I'd turn my back, save my self, and then count my "what ifs' until they're too many too bear. Right now, I can only be good at one thing. And that's trying.
Grace❤
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Letters to "Andy"
RomansaSo I've read about a random article. And it says people encounter three kinds of love in their lifetime. First love. Great love. Last love. I'm sure some of you are lucky to have met your great and last love at the same time... Me. I don't know. B...
