I sit on my bed, trying hard not to think about all the good times I've had, with him. I try so hard, that my head ended up hurting badly. But I couldn't do it for long. Nostalgia hits me cold like the flu. Memory, after memory of us together, makes me long for the past. Makes me wish that nothing would change, and end up like things right now. A teardrop starts dropping onto my shirt, first one, and now two, four, and five. I don't care. All I care about is him. The one guy that would make my heart race, and make the butterflies in my stomach flutter pleasantly. But most of all he's the only that knows the real me.
    I keep on remembering forbidden memories of him. Especially the last memory. Where we didn't say things that was supposed to be said. Where we misinterpreted each other. Where I saw who he really was. However, I still miss him, still wishing he would just deny it all, and just choose me. But none of that, won't make him call; will make me stop waiting for the phone to ring. The tears start increasing, my heart starts throbbing. My brain wishing it could explode from all of the raw nostalgia. But that won't make me stop, waiting. Till the day ends. Till he realizes that, he's supposed to be mine. Till I die waiting for him…


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