For the past two days, I had been patronizing the comfort of my bed and pillows in a certain supine position staring at the ceiling. I was momentarily warped in a blackhole and it was all because of a series of disappointing events. I was acting more of a zombie and less of a life form. I was just not feeling well and continuously lapsed in a cycle of waking state, daydreaming , REM, partial wake state and checking his messages, in that manner.
For the past two days, I had a BIPOLAR experience. The first day, I was in mania, giggling and blushing in his shallow and gullible texts. But felt dispensable when he ignored me in the second day.
While I was lying in the bed, I had manually counted my heartbeat without the actual palpation of my pulses; had felt every involuntary muscle twitching and memorized every lyric of Allison Iraheta's version of the song: I can't make you love me that was played in my Itunes for 256 times.
I shed a tear-- just one tear I guess. My tear ducts too dried up at this point, having cried in every cartoon movies I watched and all the rejection love had brought me.
I dunno--maybe I'll just give up this fight. You can ignore me till you had your last breath. It's ok. I just can't make you love me.
