Torn

I keep thinking about it, how ironic is that my story is a reflection of the reality written months earlier, months before I knew him and now the feelings are the same like it was a warning of what was about to happen. Now I feel a tear slipping through my face on his wait to meet my lips so that they taste their saline and give me the slight sense of having a lump on the throat.

Over thinking, that’s the devil behind this warm universe that’s beginning to for in my head, I can’t even know what I want, all that I know is that I have more doubts than ever, that I can’t forget this guy I loved, that my world is torn…

Torn… is kinda of a sweet word for such heavy meaning, heavy… like the feeling on the top of my shoulders that every single day makes me wonder whether it was the right thing to do, like one friend wisely said, relationships are hard to maintain more if is a long distance one. He right, despite all my efforts to prove him wrong I always knew he was right, that it’s just difficult not to see the person you love at least once a week. What was I thinking that I’m different from everyone that ever tried to make it work?