xx Ella.Z

Being needy is the last option I had in mind because I used to be one and it never made him stay.  Inspired by a song from Ariana Grande which I'm currently obsessed with. I can be needy, But I don't want to seem, Like I need someone, Never to part. Or someone, To even touch me, With all one's heart. I've been needy, And it's not something, He favored, Of me wanting, His time, His space, His affection, When all I need was, A little of his attention.

Though he did hurt me a lot. Some of the good memories I had with him are worth remembering. In my mind, memories were playing --like a film reeling in a slow motion with my favourite genres of romance; of all those kisses I've missed , fantasy; of all those dreams I once painted with you and adventure; of all those crazy silly things we did when we were madly in love . And all of the best parts in the film were being put on pause to keep me smiling like an idiot. Why? Because they were best kept as stills --stills of you.

Why is it that every time I look at the sunset, I will immediately think of him? Memories of him were gold that I just couldn't get my eyes off. I caught myself staring at the sunset again to reminisce about the memories I once had with you. Just like the sunset, you were beautiful and only last for a short while but for what it's worth, it happened.  You happened.

I used to have a diary where I would write everything about him. Funny to have recalled old memories of innocent love. I still remember, for days after you left, I turned to my diary to remind me of you and it's like reading an aching novel that has quite a sad ending to tell. Eyes soaked in tears, wishing that everything written in the diary will reel in my life back again with you as my hero.  But it all has changed now.  Turning to my diary is like turning to something nostalgic with humorous tale badly written --of how one could be silly enough to be in love with someone so ridiculous. I laugh to it as my mind reminiscing the memories I once had, like reading a sappy yet trashy novel that got you to say, "What the hell was she thinking?"  But I guess that's what you called as love. It made you do silly things like writing a silly novel that could have gotten a better ending.