Sometimes it’s getting harder to pretend that it isn’t there. A constant reminder. A constant bystander. A temptation of some sort. And I don’t even wanna take a glance at it. But it’s there. Always lurking. Always following like a shadow under a dark cloud.

It was your intention to lure me out. And now that I’m in the open, you left. How fucked up is that?

Because sometimes every single thing doesn’t matter anymore. Not the good things. Bad. In-between. Or whatnots.