Unhurried thoughts on the freeway

2 am

So this is how it feels like to be heartbroken.

And this time, I left you because you were no good for me. Toxic, they say.

So this is how a heart dies, finally, after being broken so many times. Technically, I can still hear my heart beating away inside my chest, but it is a breaking that exists only in my heart and no where else.

I floor the accelerator and watch as the needle climbs past the 140 mark. At this speed, I would be pretty much dead at the first collision with anything. Thousands of stars litter the night sky, it's a beautiful night. A beautiful night to die. It's devastatingly beautiful, and my tired mind only wants to go to sleep. But if I die tonight, I'll never be able to experience the life ahead that is waiting.

So, I turn off the freeway and stop along Central Boulevard. Looking down this long stretch of road that was travelled daily by the workforce, it was completely empty at such an ungodly hour. The office buildings of the concrete jungle that lay ahead was eerily silent and dark, like mourners at a funeral. The funeral of my heart.

They say the past is past, and the future is in one's hands so the best thing to do would be to focus on the present. But in the present moment, my thoughts are still filled with her. Maybe it was because she came off so real, so innocent, and knew all the right things to say. Or maybe she was the one that brought me back to reality. I know now, though. A little too late but it is better late than never.

She's gone anyways.

In the present moment, I'm thinking how I can start this all over again. So I try to hold onto a time when nothing mattered so I can explain what happened, and I can erase the things that I've done, even though I jolly well know I can't. But I've fallen before. I will go on to fall another 100 times and I will still get back up. I know what I want this time, and the people who are going to be in it and you certainly aren't on the invited list.

So what is it about her? She's just a fucking china whore, you say.

Yes, she wasn't that beautiful. Nor was it the sex. It wasn't anything she said or did.

She's still on my mind because she's real, while you hid behind a fake veneer.

Yes, she hurt me. But she taught me a very good lesson. And I thank her for that.

So goodbye, no regrets. We both know we're toxic together.


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