Excerpts from my Moleskine
09 October, 2007
We have spent a lot of afternoons together, rounding the malls and window shopping for furniture and appliances. Funny how similar our taste in decore and style is.
We have looked at invitation designs, colour combinations for the wedding motif, engagement and wedding rings, and possible photographers to hire. We even have a list of people, friends, and family to be invited to the wedding already.
Strange how I am letting myself indulge in these fancies. I have been zealously guarding my heart ever since my world as I knew it changed. I promised myself that I can not let things or myself fall apart anymore.
I'm not sure if I'd have the strength to keep picking up the pieces.
Love must be a four letter word for disappointment. Every now and then, he is able to charm his way through my uncertainty, my bitterness and preventive strategies. Every now and then I allow myself to be naive. I allow myself to believe that this will work, that he does love me. That he is mine and I am his.
The broken, wiser, perhaps sadder part of me whispers things at the back of my mind. It warns me to be cautious, to be wary of promises of ever after.
We have spent a lot of afternoons together, rounding the malls and window shopping for furniture and appliances. Funny how similar our taste in decore and style is.
We have looked at invitation designs, colour combinations for the wedding motif, engagement and wedding rings, and possible photographers to hire. We even have a list of people, friends, and family to be invited to the wedding already.
Strange how I am letting myself indulge in these fancies. I have been zealously guarding my heart ever since my world as I knew it changed. I promised myself that I can not let things or myself fall apart anymore.
I'm not sure if I'd have the strength to keep picking up the pieces.
Love must be a four letter word for disappointment. Every now and then, he is able to charm his way through my uncertainty, my bitterness and preventive strategies. Every now and then I allow myself to be naive. I allow myself to believe that this will work, that he does love me. That he is mine and I am his.
The broken, wiser, perhaps sadder part of me whispers things at the back of my mind. It warns me to be cautious, to be wary of promises of ever after.
