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Like how back in the olden days, the women waited for the men to arrive home with bacon in their hands, this was the twist in our story.

Today it is my turn to have a taste of his agony. He says it wouldn't take long to come back and I am betting on his every word because what was his definition then of, "Be right back"? How long was "Be right back"? A year or two? Untill he finds his rightful key of happiness? He is keeping us at complete isolation and I can't blame him for keeping the rest of him unscathed. Even if whats left of him to safe guard was only a 2% out of the 100, how do you deem him responsible if he once kept you safe, or at least tried to? Out of the question.

These days self-pity floods me as though I have been injected with it and I am nothing more but revolted at myself for such display of action. I am not even in the least bothered in trying to pick myself up. I sit there, graceful as can be and let ache consume me so willingly. Like how only the world is mine and no one else's. How unfair of you? Same sentiments. So since I am nothing but words and emotions, try is what I will attempt on and the agony, I leave for the nights.

Tomorrow, I stop going into unconsciousness and I do the housework with the same amount of love put in as before. Tomorrow I stop picking my pencil up to allow the thoughts to wander untill I am composed enough.

Come back soon Sunny. I miss you as much.