Bittersweet lemonade

"I know sometimes it's gonna rain."
-Neyo

(Looking at the time; it was eight P.M.) - "Since when did YOU go to sleep EARLY?" asks Bou. Since when did I sleep early? Since the day I slowly became pointlessly restless. Since the day I found myself waiting for the calls I know I'll never get. Since the day I realized I was holding on to something that wasn't there anymore. Since the day my call logs became empty. Since the day I no longer received any corny text messages. Since when I did I sleep early.. Since the day I had no other choice to but to face reality. What was I thinking? Did I really think that you and I could be together for so long knowing we're nothing but impatient human beings deep inside? I remember the first time we actually became companions. I remember we had this arguement over the existence of forever. I still stick with my answer. Forever isn't real, it doesn't exist. In the end, although I know it will never happen, I always like to think there can be a forever. For whatever matter forever will use itself upon, I will smile at it knowing you were once right about something. Everytime we did argue, admit it, I was always right. Once you even said the reason we would stop talking will be because of me, but in the aftermath, everything was all you. Everything you ever did say, turned out to be the exact opposite. Do you finally get my logic? Can you finally look past me and see my solidness? Well, rhetorical questions are pretty much useless at this point. Everything I think or wonder now is completley pointless. I don't know why I waste my time thinking of what could've been, but I do it. I wish I would stop, but I won't. Why? My own mind is baffling me into some kind of trickery; like some kind of maze I can't figure out. I thought I was supposed to have control over my own mind, but obviously, this subject is a little overbearing. I hate it. The smallest things remind me of you no matter what situation I'm caught up on, as focused as I am. I hate it. I hear people saying things that brings up our many inside jokes that sticks in my head everyday. I hate it. Our late night and early morning conversations replay in my head like I have a song on repeat, becoming my favorite piece of music. I hate it. I sleep with my television off at night breaking out of my scared-to-sleep-in-the-dark habit because I was so use to your comfort before I go to bed. My smiles and laughter can quickly turn into frowns when I hear or see something that reminds me of you. When I eat, I giggle and tear up at the same time thinking about silly things you would say when one of us would eat. I catch myself drinking lemonade often and it reminds me of you because I thought it was weird how we both liked lemonade at that time. When things were finally becoming better for me, you come around like nothing happened. You leave me with false hopes all over again in hope for your future phone calls. Sometimes I think you're doing that on purpose, then again why would you waste your time. There's so many things I don't understand, and I shouldn't care to, but I do. I guess I overthink things too much. Lately, I've been wondering about your mysterious phone calls. You call me randomly unexpected and then you leave. Our conversations no longer make any sense and they're less than a minute. What is it? Do you still think of me these days like I do? Do you even miss me? Why do you call me? Am I just someone to keep your boredness occupied? What are you up to? My days are much quieter now that you're not around. I tried to get back on my social life, but it doesn't help much. I question myself too much about you.

I'm left with the taste of lemonade on my tounge and dreams of the winter we never had.

Hemingway

Earnest Hemingway was one of the greatest writers of our days. One day, he was challenged to write a story using only six words.

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

That was his story. I thought it was pretty damn catchy and it's one of the best stories I've ever read. For those of you who cannot figure out the meaning, I'm quite disappointed in you! Anyways, I really thought this was a very invigorating piece brought to my attention the other morning. Since then, other authors and writers have been trying to imitate this technique of writing, but I think they can't compare. I wanted to write one of my own, but none of the ones I've written seem to be as good. Motivation.

Hemingway, you're a genius. Here's mine:

"Reality; learn it, speak of it."

Well, although it isn't as great as his, I thought this perfectly fits a life story, afterall, I do mostly write about real life situations, elucidating on it, and observations of others - off subject, anyway. I really think reality is becoming to play a big part of my life at the moment. I'm finally waking up from some kind of calamity I never realized I was in, like some sort of coma. Well, my six-word story was an advice to everyone. Learn what's real and what's not, then deal with it. I'm finally able to keep my cool when something I don't cope well with hits me in the face. I think this blog was too long and pointless already over a small topic, although it should be a good thing, but I tend to talk really fast when I try to explain myself like this, haha.