SofarLunar

"I endured this pain day after day, drowned in the ocean of tears that weren't allowed to leave my eyes. I held on for long, but they didn't love to see that, they stepped upon my head, content to watch me drown in the emotional mess they caused."

Seven relationships and all were doomed from the start. The same issues and the same outcome, all the girls he loved left him, cheated on him, stabbed him in the back. 

Was he hexed? Was he really the problem? Why did they never last? Chang Wu didn't know. All he knew was that, they were breaking his heart to smaller pieces every time they walked out of his life because he couldn't 'afford' them. 
 
He'd tried everything to the extent everyone called him a simp for women who wouldn't even do half of what he'd done for them. 'Why were all middle class women the same?' Why hadn't he met one that wouldn't push the burden of financial responsibilities on his shoulders. The more he thought of it, the more he bore hate, until he decided to give up on them, and aim for something higher. 


Dating a rich woman was his next step. As impossible as it sounded and difficult to achieve, he thought the woman on the magazine cover that caught his attention would actually love him, not because of money because she already had that. There were problems, he had to live falsely to catch her eye and watch out for potential threats to avoid the truth from getting exposed, but how long would he pretend to be the opposite of what he truly was? How long would he lie? How long would he continue to live in fear? And most importantly, how would he put an end to the facade without getting his dream woman hurt?

Why I hate Middle Class Women

Jin stopped at a phone booth and tried calling Lijuan, but just like she ignored everyone else, she ignored his call too.

"Where could she be? Lijuan please… I want to talk to you again" Helplessness and anxiety silently built up and gained momentum while he recalled the string of heartbreaking events. Lijuan would never forgive him.

He went back to his home, and as he walked, his hair fluttered in the air, his clothes clung to his body, and arms tightly wrapped around him.

The sadness that begun a while ago remains like a veil over his skin, grey and cold. He stood on the brink of something he couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he struggled to take even a single step forward. It was too much. All of it. And somehow, he kept moving. But every step cost him. The darkness grew darker; the pain grew sharper; all of it seemed to only grow in strength and he wondered if things could ever get better.

Part III