Be Your Own Pet.

Ever since my estrogen has been able to control my feelings, I’ve been playing with fire and getting burnt again and again. It brings me to the top of the world when the rush comes on, the heady feeling when a guy looks you in the eye. And you know that it’s more than just a look.

But I have fallen again and again for people who toy with my emotions, and then discard me. 

Like how I came to know about someone who has hooked up after hanging on to me for so long.

And how, upon reflection, I realise that it’s not the first time I’ve been so caught up in the moment that I forget there’s no ground beneath me at all.

Then the bubble bursts and I plummet and I pick myself up. Only to be swept away again by that smile, that touch, those words. Cycle repeats.

Heartbreak heartbreak heartbreak. There’s only so much I can take.

I guess this is where my cynicism comes in handy. Let me switch back to my asexual mode, take a step back, and laugh at the folly of hormone-induced “love”.

I’m just unlucky, I guess. Now where’s my tissue.