Pocahontas

Hi peeps. It’s me. I’m back again with this journal—slash, a.k.a., a sort of public diary of mine. It’s been years since the last time I posted on this blog. I guess some things only happen when they’re meant to. I’ve come to realise that when it comes to my own feelings, I’m pretty hopeless—clueless, even. I see now that I’ve been caring, a hopeless romantic, yet strangely in denial. I acted oddly whenever people tried to push us together, insisting that I wasn’t into you at all. The truth is, I was hoping you’d come to me directly—hoping you’d be firm and clear about what we were, or could be. Instead, I stayed quiet and waited, convincing myself that I didn’t feel anything. Now I’m stuck between two choices: do I keep waiting, or do I finally let go? Both choices show how afraid I am of rejection and how little confidence I have, shaped by past experiences. I’m afraid of being the unlucky one in love again and again. Maybe back then, I just wasn’t mature enough to face w...