wait... waiting.... waited.

Back from Paris... I didn't want to leave. I love France, Lyon and all, and I probably would want to travel down south France and take a look. A break, that's what I need.

I know I don't open up easily, and I don't usually say what's in my mind. But I hate it that when I try to, my words are... disregarded, or unacknowledged. And the topic conveniently shifts to something else, leaving me hanging by the end of my thread, wondering if I should have ever said that. Or if my words ever meant something or made any difference. What's the point of me shooting out what's in my head to someone then? It's never gonna matter anyway. Oh, and it makes me feel silly for even wanting to say what is in my mind.

I enjoyed my time in Paris, probably for the solitude and the time spent alone in a foreign land. Been thinking... and thinking. Ever wanted something so much, then suddenly realising you somehow don't want it that much already? Like, you're just waiting to be on your way out.

Probably what J said was right, no one likes to play second fiddle to anything. But in this predicament, I wonder why it seems like I have no say in anything.

Maybe things will work themselves out in time. But would I be too jaded by then? Because, it's starting to lose meaning to me.

Maybe because I'm detaching myself from feeling so much, from feeling too much. My self-protect mechanism. When two parties wait too long and nothing happens, shouldn't someone move on?

The flames burn and sizzle, then slowly flicker away.

Doesn't it?

And when someone causes you more heartbreaks than expected, does that mean that someone means a lot to you? Why?

Probably being in Paris, city of love and romance, took me away from the reality that I have to face back home. Now you know why I never wanted to leave. I miss being away.