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romanticising unsuccessful romance

I wasn't sure before, whether to write it here or not, thinking that this story should be kept to myself (and a couple of people) and even if I want to make a memento out of this slice of my life, I should have just wrote it on my private journal.

But yeah, I changed my mind. I've been practically sharing my thoughts here over the years, so I kinda want to do a little closure as well. And I don't intend to do a very simple closure like, "So yeah, long story short, I realise he will never reciprocate my feelings (even though I technically never confessed), I can never be with him and I am now officially over him. The End." No, no. I have spent so many years, invested in this feeling, doing the stupidest things, ignoring the most obvious signs there were, and being delusional that I thought it's a curse that couldn't be helped.

Noo, no. It deserves an epic, grande exit that needs my time, dedication, and my rusty storytelling skills to elaborate this story. I particularly like this part of my life, this story. I have watched, read, listened to love stories I was just wondering why is mine not like them. Then of course I figured that even though my stories are not like everybody else's, where people date and have relationships with other people, go through breakups, date again and start a relationship again, and eventually end up in marriage. It doesn't mean that my stories are less meaningful. And again, disclaimer: I write this because I like my story, not the person I am about to tell. So, here goes..

I would've never thought that the moment I saw him across the classroom was the moment that I would remember for the longest time. I was just a teenager who like pretty people with pretty eyes. Little did I know I would think over the same guy over the years. And this, is my story.

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