Saturday, November 21, 2009
A hundred different ways 

Months after they broke up, he would call or message her at the most random of times.

He hated it when she told him this, but it was true- he treated her the way his mother treated him.

He would never ask her what she was up to or how she was doing. Instead, the focus of their conversations was always on him.

Sometimes it felt like they were in a competition she didn't ask to be in- if she said she was planning a trip somewhere, he would quickly plan a trip of his own, except it had to be bigger and better. Then he would talk about the fancy gadgets he had just bought and how she might get to see them someday, as if it mattered to her.

At other times he would go on about how much he hated his life- his mounting tuition loan from his Ivy-League education, his overbearing parents, his dead-end of a career.

It could be 2 a.m. and she would have to go to work the next day, but that never stopped him. He knew that she would always answer his calls, that she would always listen, and that she would always have something nice to say to him.

But her patience gradually wore thin and the countless "you're allowing him to do this to you" warnings from her girlfriend somehow came through to her.

She stopped picking up his calls, and she stopped being his emotional punching bag. She even started seeing other men.

It was the petering out of the relationship that she hated the most- the end of the end, when neither sides had the the energy nor desire to maintain a facade of caring.

Eventually, they both moved on, and there was no longer any longing or grief, nor disappointment or anger. No more "if only"s or any need for explanations or answers.

From time to time she would hear about him, but it seemed after 2 years he was still the same, although she had changed in a hundred different ways.

And this song will always remind her of him -

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Female. Singaporean
Traveller. Bookworm.
Coffee Addict.
Amateur Photographer.
Wannabe Fashionista.
Museum Geek.

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