The Webpage is not available

So I am writing this now, instead of writing my paper for my 10 am class tomorrow. It’s funny how my mind is already set for tomorrow’s long list of activities when it’s still not even legitimately tomorrow. I guess the internet malfunctioning gave me a good kick start to write this post because I was itching to write for days now; I just really don’t know how & where to start.

It just dawned to me while I desperately try to refresh my twitter homepage how some things can’t be there when you need it and there are some things you can’t have no matter how bad you want it. It’s probably my biggest learning for 2014. 2014 is the best year so far and I can’t emphasize that more. It’s really the bestest #supersuperlative and that still is an understatement. But anyway, people often tell me I'm the hugot queen. Maybe I can be too dramatic for some, but I’m just a really sentimental kind of gal. I like taking every little thing as something special and that it amounts to a greater purpose. If that even made sense. Needless to say, I find meaning in everything I do. 

And sometimes I think, would our meeting on that night of December 2013 was actually just going to end like this?

How you goofily smiled at me during our last dance and that it would just really turn out to be a cold shoulder a year after?

How I quickly shifted from being an everything to a nothing? 

How easy was it for you, and for all the other guys for that matter, to just throw it all in the window?

Do some things happen for it to just end? because if that’s the case, I’d rather like it not happening.

Because pain comes knocking on the door and consuming me once again. Insecurity and jealousy also comes joining the party and TGIF!

I’m not really making sense. In fact, I’ve used a lot of fragments, dangling clauses and even words that don't even exist.

Just like you. Nothing making sense. And you don’t exist.

You were just one day there, and the next day gone. In a blink of an eye, I was insignificant.

And it hurts like hell, because you don’t know why you’re hurting. Why it happened. All these questions I don’t even know if it’s ever going to be answered.

I’m just confused and I’m comforting myself with a notion that maybe I did matter. At one point. In a timespace or what. But just like what the other people told me and left me: You weren't the one.

And as I try to become wanted. As I try so hard to become the real me in front of them, the more they run away. And it’s sick and it’s driving me crazy.

When I start wanting them, the webpage becomes unavailable.