The Truth Is A terrible Thing.

This imaginary love we have created doesn't seem right. It keeps fluctuating. An unnatural pattern has been created. It is repeating, as though demanding me to stop. put a halt to all this shit. To end all of this. Seriously, I'm too tired to continue this fairytale that seemed to be on pause. Now, I'm facing the black-tinted window with a stranger on my side. But all I can see is your face matched to this stranger's body. I'm sick of waiting. Just the thought of wondering when it's going to actually start disgusts me. I looked at the seat next to me which is empty. In my head, i've created an imaginary marker with my finger. Without thinking about people's stares that laid on me, I traced out the letters of his name. It marks the end. Keep your love, son. Save it for your garbage man. I'm emptying the content of my heart. Darling, there's no 'u' in my heart. God, I never thought it was this easy.