Self Reflections & Regrets 

As the year comes to an end and summer approaches it seems the most appropriate to reflect on this year. A lot has happened, much of which I never shared but trust me it was quite heated, but I was not completely honest with all of you. I Scarlet Ramereaz did like someone, do like someone and yes he does go to my school. You may be wondering, “What the fuck Scarlet, you just got out of an unhealthy relationship with a fuckboy, how could you like a guy so soon?” It’s more of a mutualistes like for this person whom I have known for some time now. Ha, as much as try to suppress my emotions, liking someone is something that is inevitable in my life. Hey I am not saying any names but some of you inquisitive people out there can figure it out. Anyway, the reason I wanted to do this blog today is to vent, in particular look at the mistakes I have done, in depth I want to evaluate my misconception about Mr.X. 

For three years I had a crush on a guy who can paint. He could paint worlds, paint things unfathomable to the shallowest of imaginations, and he painted his way right into my heart. I liked him from afar only scraping the surface of who he really was. But the closer I got the more cracks I saw in his paintings. The more I talked to him and learned about him, the less inclined I was in knowing more. His love for the colour yellow masks the darkness of his words. His corruptive dialogue and thoughts more vile than most cause me to refrain my heart from his. Although I told him that I liked him, I knew inside that this would never work. I wish I hadn’t liked him, but above all, I wish I never told him. But I hope deep down that the things he says are mere illusions painted to merely distract one from who he really is. My heart no longer beats fast at the sight for him, and my eyes no longer yearn for a sight of him. I now look away, ashamed at the sight of him near me. I tell myself that I was blinded by the sight of him, a lust, an immature crush that showed me a mirror of a boy that I thought I loved. Now, every time I look at him, I only see vile corruptive phrases too horrid for my ears to take. I know that the plane has shifted between us. It is not the same as when we were just friends. He sees my prior crush toward him as a weapon and uses it against me to keep me contained, weak, vulnerable. My love is not merely for show, but it has depth, refusing to be filled with false hope and shallow promises. In the last two months I got played by a guy who thought we were friends with benefits, I finished the hardest arts of my high school life, and now I’m here, typing this thinking about my new story. 

I started writing a story compiling all my awkward experiences in a fun and crazy way. Stay tuned for more cause I have nothing better to do. 


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