What's Me When There's No Hue

She come home at 6:00pm everyday. For at least, that is her expected calculation to arrive if not caught in an overwhelmingly annoying traffic. How many stoplights? How many brakes to hold before she even reached home? Didn't dare to count it. She just silently wished it would be less..every thing that's saddening in her life to be...less.

Staring blankly at the crowded road, commuters rushing in and out the pavement, vehicles honking ridiculously, from everywhere she looks everyone is moving. The world simply never stops..so why will she?

As her unit's door gets unlocked, she's relieved to see a familiar space, the inviting scent of relaxation, only that she knows it's empty. Something's missing. Like that feeling she expected someone to kiss her in the cheeks and ask if she had eaten already or might even peek what's inside her shopping bag. Something romantic. She stares for a while at the blank space before her, then mindlessly threw her bag on the couch, turned on the television which is automatically set to Disney Channel and tried hard to shake off those sickening hopes that had been turning into obsessively dreadful wishes lately.

So tired and consumed entirely by her most uninvited thoughts. She came back to her senses and realized she still needs to do some other things rather than to exert too much effort in pushing those thoughts away. It wont leave her anyway. So let it hang around her cluttered mind. Her night routine - trying to have a healthy dinner but always ends up with a satisfying high calorie snack, checking numerous emails, glancing over the phone several times like hell waiting for unsent texts to arrive or maybe an unexpected call from someone expected, a more or else 15-minute warm bath and after that awaits another hour of vanity that a girl does to make her look alive and not some kind of a walking dead. Also, add up that TV series she's so hooked to watch and that unfinished book lying in the side of her bed for quite some time because she isn't actually reading much of it, rather just unconsciously staring at the pages while her train of thoughts about you played on her mind.

Facing the mirror, she combs her hair gently and then grabbed this essential thing. She could feel the warm air blowing through her hair like it was the heat she needed in a cold dark evening. The rumbling noise seemingly stirred her numb emotion that made her sweat a little from the inside. She's almost done  — drying her hair would be a lot easier now after cutting it short. She finally gave up her precious long hair. Not that because she's brokenhearted but she felt like she needed a change. Definitely both. Or should she confess that someone told her how more attractive short-haired girls are? She gave in to that hoping that being an ugly duckling for a long time would magically turn her into the most loveliest swan. Err..more like a prettiest princess who deserves a happily-ever-after. She pursed her lips into a thin smile then pouted while imagining a kiss would come by. With that look in her face, no doubt she's cute, her zombie version kind of pretty, not with bulging eyes of course rather a pair of healthy eye-bags and pale skin — blame Insomnia for being her best friend.

 She wished you were her insomnia so you never had to leave her

A few moments lost in trance. She felt loneliness swallowing her up. Even when her head feels lighter she can't deny that her heart is getting heavier each time. She wondered. Was there an arrow pierced on it?  Or a dozen of rocks piled inside? She didn't care to know why.
All she did was carry it every single moment of her life.

...since you left.