May.

I've reached the month of May. Cross the three month mark at last. I'm supposed to feel victorious because I've stopped the tears.

Of course, they still come, they still flow. But only when I watch sad movies, that remind me of what it was like, or what could have been.

What might have been.

What might be, still looms gloomily in the horizons. Are we still friends? I don't know. Am I sad about this? Maybe, I don't know.

There's this strange sensation of sour shocks rushing through my heart when he unwittingly appears before my eyes, the image of him.

I woke up at 3 am last night to send the message.

Was it wrong?

No one thinks right at 3 am in the morning.

  ¶ 17:23