My first one was nothing on the scale of commitment, emotional investment and everything. I didn’t even feel very sad when it ended.

My second one was a rebound, a mutual rebound at that. He’s still a good friend, but despicable in a way. Took my first kiss, tried to grope me, and all sorts of other stuff, and while doing all these he didn’t know what he want. I was made use of. All of a sudden, an absolute cut of contact. Messages and phone calls were met with silence. Recently further enquiries revealed that it was because the girl he liked started talking to him again. All’s good, it was luck that that happened, because I wouldn’t have realised I didn’t like him at all and it was really purely a rebound. Hurt a little back then though.

Third one was one in which we understood each other, in a way. Often, we voice out what could easily be from each others’ mouths. I thought back then that maybe that’s what soul mates meant. But it gradually dwindled to an emotional abuse kind of relationship. Over-controlling, self-obsessive…he gave me so much trauma even after the break up that gradually, whatever positive impression or emotions I have left for him were grind away.

Fourth one, a guy I absolutely trusted. Who doted on me too. But I fell out of favour probably due to the many personality flaws I have as well as how boring a person I am. He hates me to the core now. Tweaked every memory he has of me, unintentionally I suspect. Though through this I realised the aspects of his personality that I’ve never realised before, and I’m kind of glad we’re no more.

My last one was absolutely good to me in every way possible. He may not have all the bonus points such as being romantic or doting, but he carries everything that’s essential to me. But I took him for granted, despite telling myself not to. I didn’t realise how I was taking him for granted and that made it difficult for me to stop. And now I’ve kind of lost him, and he wants to move on now. Too late for me to regret. I’m not destined for good things. He’s not going to want me back.

The third guy still smses me, even though I don’t reply him anymore. On Friday, he sent this.

Sometimes I wonder if the problem is with you. Other people don’t find themselves jumping from person to person to person.

He’s right. The problem’s with me after all.

The Girl – Part One

The glare of the screen shone on her face in the dimly lit room. It was one of the two light source, the other being the faint light of dawn that penetrates through the curtains of her bedroom windows. She taps on the keyboard of her computer, uncertain, hesitant, wary of what may appear on the screen which are in actuality her thoughts, moods, ideas, and in essence her person, her being. It was scary. That which is on rocks, her being, being shown to her via uniform characters – one ‘S’ is not one bit different from the other. It’s eerie in way, what this may signify. A certain coldness, inhumaneness, a certain destiny she’s trying to avoid, but seemed to be zooming towards.

She tries hard, too hard sometimes, as she is inclined to believe, but that may be pure bias. She may in fact be too kind to herself, being all accepting and accommodating to her weaknesses and flaws, providing excuse after excuse for her misbehaviour, even when these excuses are not justifying reasons, they become reasons in her head. The fact that she alone, as one singular person believes in both contrasting perceptions of how she has been treating herself. That both contrasting ideas exist in her head simultaneously; exists simultaneously in one entity. This particular fact makes her feel terrified. There is also the additional fact that she is able to recognise the fact aforementioned. That makes it all the more terrifying. It’s as if there was a third person in her. Objective, cold, but completely invisible to all but herself. Whichever part of her that tries to introduce this third person to mutual friends would not be regarded seriously. Or at least, not be regarded as seriously as any part of her would like to be.

It is really annoying, and inconvenient, to have so many parts to herself. It gives her unnecessary emotions. It makes her do things she knows she’ll regret, but she end up doing things anyway. Most importantly, it makes her hate herself. The parts are contradicting afterall. If she were to exist as three different persona, two would probably be mortal enemies, while the third as a neutral. To have all three in one common biological space is very troublesome indeed…

She sits on the floor of her bedroom, half slouched against the side of her bed, with her back aching, her butt numbing, typing herself out. It was so cold, yet never once did she shiver. She felt numb. And tired. Of life, of herself, of everything, the universe. And of course, for she did not sleep the entire night before and it was dawn, physically.