Okay? Okay.

In the midst of a very loud room, I can still hear my heart breaking to a million pieces.


About a gazillion thoughts ran through my head the entire day. The moment I faced the monitor of my laptop, everything just went away. Maybe because I can't bear to think about it anymore.


Here's the thing. I'm tired of the silent treatment. I'm sick of it. I'd rather hear you hate me, you're angry at me, I've hurt you than not being able to know what is wrong. It's just torture for me, it kills me.


So to sum it up, when I ask you to let go of me, please make it hard for me by asking me why. Not by agreeing to it, because that makes me feel I don't mean anything to you.










What does okay really mean?