What are you waiting for

Come on, Bawel Pendiam —wake up.

What’s gotten into you?

If he still cared, he wouldn’t be tearing you apart like this.

Are you really going to sit around waiting for some divine epiphany to hit him?

Waiting for that tired apology, that recycled line: “Let’s start over again.”

Open your eyes— he’s already moved on.

He made his choice.

And somehow, it wasn’t you.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

How the one who made you believe in love again is the same one who broke it in your hands.

He was your happiness, your gravity, your entire orbit.

And now he’s just… gone.

So what are you still waiting for?

A miracle?

He’s just another foolish boy thinking he’ll find someone “better”— as if better than you even exists.

He thinks anyone who sides with you must be blind, must be bewitched,
must be wrong. 

And you?

Still here.

Still wondering.

Still aching.

Still calling it love.

But maybe it’s not love anymore.

Maybe it’s just habit.

Or a ghost.

Or a cruel trick your heart keeps playing on you.

Maybe we were never meant to grow old together.

Maybe silence is the only way to hear the truth.

Maybe solitude is where we begin to heal.

Maybe.

God, so many maybes.

But I’m done with maybe.

I’m done with love.

I’m done with waiting.

I’m done with him.

I’m just… done.