The morning sun woke me up from sleep - an endless journey of an empty dream where I adjourn to, each night. It is the weekend where I am alone again, with a cereal box and a half carton milk left in the fridge.
Days like these make me wonder if living with a broken heart makes any sense to anyone else, other than the victim ?
As I get up from the white covers, forcing myself off bed, I realised that it is such a ridiculous routine that I do everyday. The reason to crawl off bed and make my way down the stairs is a ridiculous notion to make myself feel normal, when in actual fact, my feelings are no longer under my control.
Then, I thought that this time, perhaps, I need to move on. For a moment, a slight moment, it almost sink into me, but how can I move on when I'm still in love with you?
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