When familiarity becomes foreign.

The steamboat sessions, laughing till our sides ache, taking photos like there's no tomorrow, the chill-out sessions, all the "can't be bothered with what other people think, we just want to have fun" sessions, oh yes, these happened before.

We used to be so close. We used to have so much fun. We used to love each other.

"No one remembers these, or perhaps, no one wants to remember."

We all still have the photographs as evidence. What's evidence without a case to fight? It's like, there was a murder, a weapon was found, everyone knows that it happened, but no one's doing anything about it. So what do you do, continue with your own business and just cross your fingers a miracle will happen.


"It's no longer about the tension. It's like we've never crossed each other's path before."

I really don't know how to pen all these, my exact thoughts, what I hope to see.

What happened to us?

I have no idea, anymore. I have absolutely no recollections or whatsoever of what went wrong. Yes, "things happened."

I want us to all be fine again. You're all pieces of me, people who make me the person I am, the loves of my life.

Even if each of us wants to go back to what we were used to be, maybe not, but it's just....hard. Everyone is headstrong in their own way. Too headstrong to just take a baby step back.

Being close to one doesn't mean I love the other any lesser.

10 years from now, we'll still going to be talking about it, reminiscing about the fun times, laughing at the old jokes, passing on the story of how insane we were, breaking into a smile with thoughts about the past, but, we'll still just be going to talk about it.

As much as I want things to go back, things don't always happen the way I want.

You can't undo what went wrong. You can't try make things better now, hoping that all these beautifying will cover up the debris that's buried below the surface.

It's one thing about not hoping. It's another about having no hope.