One day, I'll wake up
Without this pain in my chest
That I struggle with

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 
And sorry I could not travel both 
And be one traveler, long I stood 
And looked down one as far as I could 
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

--Robert Frost

August Seventh

It's been seven days since we last talked.

Seven days without any word from each other. I was not happy about it though. That seven days has been hard for me, considering I talk to you on a daily basis even though we don't see each other. Honestly, my day feels incomplete without your participation or involvement, and I have wondered why I let that happen. I don't have any regrets, by the way. It's sad that I see you, sit beside you, but not feel you. It's sad that you turn your back on me. It's sad that you avoid my whereabouts. It's sad that I eagerly, patiently wait for you to talk to me or even just meet my gaze and get my heart broken at the end of the day. It's sad to see you sad, and I can't even be a best friend. It's sad that I want to hug you but I can't. It's sad that I never see any hint that you want to talk to me again. Every time I don't talk to you, I almost do. Every time I avoid your gaze, I almost not. I can't do anything but wait. Our every day was like as if there's a live fence between us and we won't even dare to pass through. But you know what, I would rather be electrocuted than not talk to you, feel you, hear you for the rest of my life. The sad truth, maybe you don't care less anymore.

I held up my hands and silently count with my fingers, One, two, three, four, five, six...

It's been seven days since we last talked, and It's gonna be eight tomorrow. I sincerely wish I can stop counting.