This creepy observation of a faraway star is indeed a matter of the inexplicable. This creepy examination of that faraway star is as otiose as waking up the comatose. I myself don’t see the point of utilizing these varied types of telescopes to inspect each tiny particle of that faraway star. That faraway star is fulgent, shining the most pungent version of ultraviolet light. That faraway star is not a healthy source of force. Its light burns me. Its light blinds me. Its light spellbinds me. Its every single element renders me unmoved. That faraway star is truthfully one star that I don’t need in my assemblage of wondrous antiques. That faraway star has to be out of my unstable system. That faraway star is you.
These eyes of this stalker have never really been closed for you. These eyes of this stalker have never missed anything you’ve done hither and thither. If I had many souls, you dumping me into this dark abyss months ago was one cruel massacre. You successfully epitomized barbarity without being taught. I saluted you, I congratulated you, and I glorified you, wittily, with sarcasm. I condemned you every chance possible. I degraded you in front of my friends. I did a lot of bad stuff to make sure you would lose their respect. I had no lovely emotions when I talked about you. Everything was hatred, ill-diseased desires, and malice combined into dangerous, boiling anger. I wanted to convince them that I despised you, before I realized the only person I wanted to convince was me. Me. I miss you like hell. It is just so disturbing that you changed your profile’s settings for strangers, I couldn’t stalk you anymore. There is no point of having a secret account if I couldn't find out who you are in contact with and who you are not. I couldn’t find out who tagged you and who did not in their statuses. I couldn’t find out whose pictures are the ones you just commented on. I couldn't see your recent activities. I just couldn’t see anything from or to you anymore. This is saddening. This is horrifying. My heartbeat stopped as I was going frantic.
I hate the fact that I detest you like hell but still love you like no other. This is unhealthy, this is messy, this is unbroken, and this is love. I am so helpless, feeling unwanted, drowning in this darkly inked ocean of divided emotions. I could be the most rational person when it comes to judging the wise and the unwise. I could be the most judgmental bitch when you need hardcore and brutal opinions. One thing I could not be is your hater. I love you, miss you, strongly deeply long for you, the one being, the one love that has built and broken my heart. You are the starlet in my heart- the starlet that will never explode, the starlet that will never undergo supernova, and the starlet that will never lose its powerful radiance. I still can see the blazing light, still can feel the aura of aurora being caused by that sun-like mass, and still can be oddly energized by the photons of that celestial object. I despise myself for thinking about you, day and night, awake or asleep, here and there, in every second and every breath. This has to stop, full stop.
I should learn how to quit you. I hate it when the image of you reminds me of being in a penultimate nirvana. Images of heaven, of me sipping drinks of precious herbs and Italian grapes, keep coming across my mind when I think about you. I failed to free myself from this emotional bondage. I am still yoked. I disdain my own self for being this kind of failure. I seriously still feel the tingles and fleeting, rapturous emotions when I look at your pictures. I still damn love the fresh and pink hickeys that appeared in those dreams that involved you. I still keep your photos in a special folder which represents my untidily framed heart. I am still a loser and I can tell that.I hate it when I keep hearing stories about you going to friends’ wedding, visiting different schools, and watching football games. This heart could not feel less burdened even though words of reprimand have been uttered from time to time.
It is just saddening. I disapproved this feeling of mine, this seriously unhealthy feeling of mine from budding. I just failed. You are just like malignant cells reforming themselves each time destroyed. I deem myself stupid, the silliest person ever, for letting myself succumb into your business all over again. I fully realized that fact, yet still have feelings for you, little demon. You could have used a better way to dump me if you really had been such a true friend to me, you knew that. You just didn’t know how to play this apparently-insignificant-to-you game. You just wanted to get me disposed. Brutality is your religion while gentleness is mine. I hate you so much. I am tired of waking up thinking I was delusional. I am tired of brooding over our inconclusive story. I am suffocating in this perdition of thoughts. I hate you like hell. I want you to get out of my mind. I don’t want you to come to me in those many forms of nightmares anymore. I don’t want you to appear in those forms of hallucinations anymore. I need to get over you, infinitely.
You are one little devil that I used to love, one little person that I used to choose over everything, one little face that I used to fantasize in the past. I know you never thought of saying proper goodbyes to me. I know you will never return to this place you used to call home. I know you will never come back. You taught me how to not expect anything. You were a lesson not a delusion. You were the one subject that never failed to fascinate me. I wish I fascinated you once, at least once. I hope I was something to you, like how you were a fascinating mirage to me. This has to end; for the better and not for the worse. I am not going to stalk you anymore just like you are not going to talk to me anymore. Yes, no more stalking, no more talking. We’re done. No doubts. I will let the stellar explosion begin. No more you in me. This is the goodbye.
These eyes of this stalker have never really been closed for you. These eyes of this stalker have never missed anything you’ve done hither and thither. If I had many souls, you dumping me into this dark abyss months ago was one cruel massacre. You successfully epitomized barbarity without being taught. I saluted you, I congratulated you, and I glorified you, wittily, with sarcasm. I condemned you every chance possible. I degraded you in front of my friends. I did a lot of bad stuff to make sure you would lose their respect. I had no lovely emotions when I talked about you. Everything was hatred, ill-diseased desires, and malice combined into dangerous, boiling anger. I wanted to convince them that I despised you, before I realized the only person I wanted to convince was me. Me. I miss you like hell. It is just so disturbing that you changed your profile’s settings for strangers, I couldn’t stalk you anymore. There is no point of having a secret account if I couldn't find out who you are in contact with and who you are not. I couldn’t find out who tagged you and who did not in their statuses. I couldn’t find out whose pictures are the ones you just commented on. I couldn't see your recent activities. I just couldn’t see anything from or to you anymore. This is saddening. This is horrifying. My heartbeat stopped as I was going frantic.
I hate the fact that I detest you like hell but still love you like no other. This is unhealthy, this is messy, this is unbroken, and this is love. I am so helpless, feeling unwanted, drowning in this darkly inked ocean of divided emotions. I could be the most rational person when it comes to judging the wise and the unwise. I could be the most judgmental bitch when you need hardcore and brutal opinions. One thing I could not be is your hater. I love you, miss you, strongly deeply long for you, the one being, the one love that has built and broken my heart. You are the starlet in my heart- the starlet that will never explode, the starlet that will never undergo supernova, and the starlet that will never lose its powerful radiance. I still can see the blazing light, still can feel the aura of aurora being caused by that sun-like mass, and still can be oddly energized by the photons of that celestial object. I despise myself for thinking about you, day and night, awake or asleep, here and there, in every second and every breath. This has to stop, full stop.
I should learn how to quit you. I hate it when the image of you reminds me of being in a penultimate nirvana. Images of heaven, of me sipping drinks of precious herbs and Italian grapes, keep coming across my mind when I think about you. I failed to free myself from this emotional bondage. I am still yoked. I disdain my own self for being this kind of failure. I seriously still feel the tingles and fleeting, rapturous emotions when I look at your pictures. I still damn love the fresh and pink hickeys that appeared in those dreams that involved you. I still keep your photos in a special folder which represents my untidily framed heart. I am still a loser and I can tell that.I hate it when I keep hearing stories about you going to friends’ wedding, visiting different schools, and watching football games. This heart could not feel less burdened even though words of reprimand have been uttered from time to time.
It is just saddening. I disapproved this feeling of mine, this seriously unhealthy feeling of mine from budding. I just failed. You are just like malignant cells reforming themselves each time destroyed. I deem myself stupid, the silliest person ever, for letting myself succumb into your business all over again. I fully realized that fact, yet still have feelings for you, little demon. You could have used a better way to dump me if you really had been such a true friend to me, you knew that. You just didn’t know how to play this apparently-insignificant-to-you game. You just wanted to get me disposed. Brutality is your religion while gentleness is mine. I hate you so much. I am tired of waking up thinking I was delusional. I am tired of brooding over our inconclusive story. I am suffocating in this perdition of thoughts. I hate you like hell. I want you to get out of my mind. I don’t want you to come to me in those many forms of nightmares anymore. I don’t want you to appear in those forms of hallucinations anymore. I need to get over you, infinitely.
You are one little devil that I used to love, one little person that I used to choose over everything, one little face that I used to fantasize in the past. I know you never thought of saying proper goodbyes to me. I know you will never return to this place you used to call home. I know you will never come back. You taught me how to not expect anything. You were a lesson not a delusion. You were the one subject that never failed to fascinate me. I wish I fascinated you once, at least once. I hope I was something to you, like how you were a fascinating mirage to me. This has to end; for the better and not for the worse. I am not going to stalk you anymore just like you are not going to talk to me anymore. Yes, no more stalking, no more talking. We’re done. No doubts. I will let the stellar explosion begin. No more you in me. This is the goodbye.
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