Just last December when I visited home, I was telling my friends and family that I had probably found the person I would spend the rest of my life with.
But now I know I was only telling that to myself.
The realisation hit me at the end of last month.
It’s funny that I’m writing this on a public blog on the internet.
One of things I began to despise about you was that you would freely write about almost everything and everything on a public social networking site.
I remember you saying how you had bad social skills, and that you didn’t have any particularly close friends that you could talk to.
I suppose the internet was the only place for you to express yourself.
You could confine in it more than you could to me.
Do you realise how lonely that made me feel?
And in the irony of me doing the same thing now, on my personal blog that practically no one knows about, unlike your SNS, I suppose there’s a part of me that wishes you would read this.
Not that you would ever find it.
Not that you ever knew I had a blog.
I guess you weren’t that interested in my hobbies.
Maybe you weren’t so interested in me.
I used to enjoy reading your crude comments and twisted thoughts on life, however I began hating them as I knew you were just creating an image for yourself.
I can already see the anger in your face at me saying you were “making an image for yourself”.
You wouldn’t want to admit it, but I know you very well.
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