dear diary...

magazines

something in me ticked off that friday evening. it was in part due to a hormonal tidal wave that has caused such hypersensitivity and heightened irritability that entire week. but it isn’t the first time. and as much as i want to sweep it under the rug and live this life in pretence and denial, to shut my eyes from the truth, to close my ears from these disquieting murmurs,  i needed some space and time for reflection. and this meant i needed distance,  away from all the negativity that has accumulated in me and that is pounding its way out of my chest. and in the event that it oozes and overflows, i’d gladly be casualty.

i’ve always thought you were a good friend. and indeed, i’ve enjoyed your company. until it was company no more. detachment, unfamiliarity and awkwardness soon took its place and worked its dark magic. our conversations are rivers no more, dammed (damned) by uncomfortable silence and small talk. i am holding back so much, no longer feeling secure enough to entrust my thoughts and feelings and fears to you. we are magnets no more because somehow, one of us became so charged with negativity we lost our attraction.

it might be just me. maybe it’s my eccentric emotions. maybe it’s my childish craving for attention. maybe it’s my inability to tolerate and empathise and understand. maybe i’m just not making the effort demanded in a friendship. maybe it’s you, too. if you didn’t browse through people so casually as if they were magazines on a rack, things could’ve been better. maybe if you treated people like people instead of shoes, i wouldn’t have felt so used and discarded.

anyway, these are the words i have kept locked in for a while now. you may feel that i’m shunning you. you may feel that i’m not talking to you as much. but it’s for your own good. after all, people don’t live near volcanoes if they had a choice.

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