A photograph always reminds us of so many things, things that we badly want to forget and some things that we wanted to reminisce every night because of the beauty it posses, the beauty that is much than reality. But between the two, I'm confused about which of those does this photograph belongs to. There's only one thing about this I'm pretty sure of, I'm genuinely happy being at his side. It seems that all things are at their right places and everything is smoothly flowing into the rhythm, that really calms me deep within. In return, I build a home for him and made him felt belonged by supporting his dreams, believing in his ideas, convincing him that he can-I supported him more than what I did to myself, I loved him in thousand little things. Until such time those thousand things drained me countless times to the point I felt so weak and tired. Tired of understanding his repeated mistakes, tired of late nights waiting for the response of unsettling arguments, tired of listening to the lame excuses, tired of giving second chances but never been tired of loving him deeper than his mind could understand. Not until he decided to leave me, that's when I realize the magic had gone. Confusions and doubts corrupt me every night and the thought of why's and how's cuts so deep at my sleep, it took a lifetime to stop the bleed. Now, as I get myself back, all I wanted is to fade the scar he left on me just how other photograph does as it gets old.