Guide the Car, You`ve got the Keys

For the past few days i can safely say, I'm fine.
Compared to the months/almost a year of waking up on the wrong side of bed every single dreadful day, i am fine.

Truth is, my fucked up situation has never changed.
It was the perceptions that i chose to view the shit that I'm in, that changed.
It was through the acceptance of change, that i changed.
For the past few months I've single-handedly allowed someone to treat me like dust.
I've been constantly trying to fill up a gap that she obviously was trying to widen.
Frankly up till this very moment, I'm clearly still extremely unsure of the definite truth.
The truth to what? The truth to what happened. The truth to how it happened. The truth to this person's heart. The truth to this facade. The truth that has been obscured, so very well hidden and pushed aside for so god damn long. The truth.
I've been sincere in trying to work things out.
I've set aside my pride, my ego.
I've made plenty of exceptions just trying so fucking hard to please this person.
I've shed tons of tears since day1.
I've apologised for the things i did and did not do.
I don't know what else there is for me to do.
I'm very well jaded.
I've been holding on even though everything seems pointless.
I've been easily contented with the small improvements that surfaces.
But at the end of the day, who am i kidding?
When all i did was ignore the fucked up moments she put me through.
Trust me, i was trashy.


Why is there no room for mistakes?
Why is there no room for negotiation?
You know, i look myself in the mirror and wonder why I'm in this plight.
Where did the Crescentian me coward to.
Where're my fucking guts.
Guts to tell her fuck you, stop treating me like this.
Guts to accept that maybe she don't love me anymore.
Guts to not believe in her i love yous and start believing in her actions that spells the opposite.
Guts to step out of this vicious cycle and move on.
Guts that made me who I've been.


When answers are not solutions.
When faith evolves to denial.
When lying is not only about altering the truth.
When karma bites.
When paranoia and insecurity decides to team up.
This is when you find not only no pot of gold, but additionally, nothing at the end of the rainbow.

So thing is, I'm not fine.
I've decided that i should stop being so bent on searching for the truth.
I'll hurt when i do.
Okay, fuck i don't know what else.
There's no textbook on how to let go or heal a broken heart so don't come down on me that harshly.


Not enough twist of events in my fairy tale?
Hahhaha there're so many loop holes in this entire post.
For example:
Fairy tale can be good in the sense that it's what everyone yearns to be in.
Fairy tale can also mean reality slapping you in the face saying wake up you bastard.

And then there's the irony.
All these happened because i wasn't truthful.
(So who the fuck am i to request for one.)

Go figure.