two hundred-fiftieth.

dear (k)you,

okay. right now, i am eating the unhealthiest post work out meal ever. instant noodles and a big ass glass of coke. 

i don't know yet what i want to write about. i just now that i have to write about something.

it's about the foreigner. okay. i think i'm overly attached to him again. i put in so much hope in him that i'm being stupid. and i want to stop.

granted, yes, i still want him to be my miracle man. but i'd like to stop hoping for it. if it will be him, i'd like it to be a nice surprise instead. i want to move on in my life.

i want to stop looking at his posts and hoping against hope that he talks to me, or looks or sees my posts. because i'm pretty sure i'm just a face or a name.

i don't even think he remembers me anymore.

what a wasted opportunity again.

i'm bound to hit jackpot one of these days.

but, while i'd like it to be him, i'd like my heart to stop wishing so much. please.