Big girls don't cry. The loneliness of my weekends makes me reminisce things of the past. Of how we used to wake up at noon, and make love the first thing since slumber, pausing for a while to plant kisses on each other, even forgetting to eat. This morning, I woke up at 8AM suddenly wondering where I am, only for reality to hit me back and tell me, "You're where you're supposed to be. At home. Your home. Not his." I argue with my thoughts, "But home is where my heart and his heart is. And it is with each other. So I am not home. I am just sleeping elsewhere till we find our place together again." I remain positive for our sake. Because love is strong. And everyone will have to accept and understand.