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Sad.

She still loves him. She keeps his pictures in a secret folder in her computer, and in the deepest darkest corners of her heart. She avoids any conversation that involves him and things that remind her of him, but she listens to his songs and secretly finds out about him from the little frail channels that she keeps just to maintain a piece of him in her life. She looks for new men, but searches for him inside every one of them. She refuses to begin a new relationship because she’s saving herself for him, and she’s still hoping he will return. She’s still hoping he will change. That he realized he’s made a mistake and that she is the one he really needs. She still believes in that happy ending. She looks for his perfume in every particle of air she breathes, and cries when she finds it. She remembers their good times and forgets that blade still cutting her heart in little pieces. She loves the memory of him and that makes his betrayal all right, normal. She says she is over him but sh...
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Act Five: akan kubalas mengapa...? mengapa kau lempar aku? kau campakkan bagai sepatu balet usang kenapa...? tak cukup baikkah aku? tak cukup sabarkah aku? perih ... perih sekali irisan panjang di lengan pisau di tangan tak sebanding dengan luka hatiku kuingat wajahmu pandangan terakhir saat mereka menendangku keluar seperti aku ini sampah tiada artinya bagimu pelacur! wanita jalang! murahan! kuteriakkan itu, kuteriakkan namamu darah di tangan terus menetes air mata terus mengucur tapi hatiku tak akan sembuh aku benci kamu! aku benci! aku mengerti sekarang ada yang lain di hatimu siapa dia? salah satu dari bajingan yang melemparku? atau dua? tiga? semuanya? pelacur!!! aku ingin mati aku ingin mati Tuhan! Tuhan!!! biarkan aku mati sambar aku dengan petir biarkan neraka menganga di bawah kakiku tidak! tidak ada Tuhan cuma setan setan cantik yang menari aku jatuh ke tangannya tidak ada Tuhan tidak untukku aku ingin mati aku ingin ...
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Incognito

Maybe because now I know nobody's looking. Maybe.. just maybe. Can I make this your permanent letterbox? I can't seem to reach you every single day, although I would muchly prefer having you tucked in a glass case near my heart, or tattooed on the tips of my fingers, where it hurts most, or so they say. Who are they, again? For we, my dear, who are special to them are special to each other are special to me. Why? Because we, my dear, are we. You see? It's elementary what I'm trying to say. It's what I'm trying to hide that you should be wary of. But then again, it's only me. How frightening can I be to you? Don't find meaning in my words, dear. You'll only find yourself questioning, and that's where I always leave you. Am I not more intriguing when you know not what I mean? What does that look signify? What is going through her head? Why did she do that? Why didn't she? Why won't she just..... why? Too many Y's here. It's raining ...
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