Those exact words were texted to me on the day that was suppose to mean so much more to me, to both of us. It was on the 22nd of March. It was my birthday. And it was suppose to be a celebration of us being an item for 2 years. But alas, it ended that very day. And those words were the last words from him. Because he forgot my birthday. So very typical of him. <--- This statement, ladies and gentlemen, does not reflect the true situation of the whole drama.
Those words were like a threat to me. Like a taunt. Like a dare. As if he was saying "Let's see if you can live without me." Well guess what? I'm still breathing. I'm moving on strong. I have my very own life. I would love to say "Fuck you!" to his face but I'm much too classy for that. And I think a mere "Fuck you!" is not sufficient enough.
Why am I bringing this up after almost a month? Because I want to lay everything to rest. There are things you tend to let it pass by quietly and for me, this is one of those things. Life happens. Heartbreak happens. And love certainly happens. Maybe, it was not written for us to be together. Thank God for that!Entah berapa lama aku nak tahan lagi dengan dia duk menggedik-gedik dengan perempuan lain. Macamla aku taktau.
I am Ummi Farhana. And for your kind information, I do not do regrets. Well, fuck you! I can't resist. Thank you.
**And after 3 hours of sleep, I came to my senses...
The thing is, we both made mistakes. I got this feeling that our relationship is changing. I got the feeling that we're no longer heading in the same direction. And the thing is, I've lost my faith. And my confidence. Because I could feel the love slipping away. I could feel the affection drying out.
And you don't even know me anymore, do you? Be honest for once. If you know me well, you will know that I wasn't the one with that attitude. But then again, everything is too late, right? You made your own assumptions and I made my own. And we both ended up hurting each other. Before going our own ways, we were always hurting each other. Why? Was I too much to handle? Oh, I know about my ego. It is the size of China. I guess that is why we fell apart.
Maybe, I owe you an apology. Maybe, you owe me one, too. Maybe, just maybe, we're just not meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could bury the past to continue with the future.
Those words were like a threat to me. Like a taunt. Like a dare. As if he was saying "Let's see if you can live without me." Well guess what? I'm still breathing. I'm moving on strong. I have my very own life. I would love to say "Fuck you!" to his face but I'm much too classy for that. And I think a mere "Fuck you!" is not sufficient enough.
Why am I bringing this up after almost a month? Because I want to lay everything to rest. There are things you tend to let it pass by quietly and for me, this is one of those things. Life happens. Heartbreak happens. And love certainly happens. Maybe, it was not written for us to be together. Thank God for that!
I am Ummi Farhana. And for your kind information, I do not do regrets. Well, fuck you! I can't resist. Thank you.
**And after 3 hours of sleep, I came to my senses...
The thing is, we both made mistakes. I got this feeling that our relationship is changing. I got the feeling that we're no longer heading in the same direction. And the thing is, I've lost my faith. And my confidence. Because I could feel the love slipping away. I could feel the affection drying out.
And you don't even know me anymore, do you? Be honest for once. If you know me well, you will know that I wasn't the one with that attitude. But then again, everything is too late, right? You made your own assumptions and I made my own. And we both ended up hurting each other. Before going our own ways, we were always hurting each other. Why? Was I too much to handle? Oh, I know about my ego. It is the size of China. I guess that is why we fell apart.
Maybe, I owe you an apology. Maybe, you owe me one, too. Maybe, just maybe, we're just not meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, we could bury the past to continue with the future.
