I want to thank you for telling me the truth about the past. But sadly, it doesn't make me feel any less disgusted, knowing what had already happened.

I want so much to get through to you, to tell you about my anxieties, my fears, however irrational they may be. I wish that you'd hold me and tell me that I was just overthinking things, and assure me of your uninvolvement.

But like everything that I've always wanted and never gotten, you have never bothered to assure me.

If you tell me you didn't do it, you say it by throwing it in my face, not even caring that I flinch as you say those careless words. Then you turn away from me, and busy yourself with ignoring my hurt gaze.

I told myself to trust you. That from our new arrangement till now, you have not given me a reason to doubt you.

But old habits die hard and I try so hard to push those nagging thoughts out of my head.

"He's telling the truth." I tell myself.

"Look, he even swore when I asked him to."

But can a seasoned liar ever really put aside his lies for a moment to share a truth if it meant losing what he thought was good for him at that point in time?

You may not understand what I am talking about. To be honest, in another month, I would probably have forgotten what I was going on about too.

My memory blanks out at important checkpoints like it doesn't want to know. Perhaps what I have is selective amnesia. Where everything bad just gets blocked out, and I never remember a lesson.

Perhaps what I truly need is a fresh start.

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Stuck between voicing out and facing rejection, the only way one can think of is to write his story out in words, in hope that it gets to the right person... Who might finally understand his pain.

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