I have to pick up what’s left of me. I have to find back my ground, where I stood before, and who I was. I knew I couldn’t handle this, but I have to make myself back up again. I have to regain my feelings again. 

who are you? why are you in my bed? why are we looking at each other? an hour ago we sat down in the restaurant we first hung out together. you started reminiscing about that day, asking me questions what we ate and what we did after. it was an afternoon tea, we ate cakes. you had pecan butterscotch and i hate chocolate indulgence. we watched a terrible horror movie, and you were the first one that would laugh at horror movies the same as i do. it was on a friday because i remember i skipped a faculty meeting that day. 

but i didn’t quite know how to feel. why were we reminiscing about it? nothing has changed ever since that day; i am still no one to you. your love for me confuses me, the thought of whether to trust you or not keeps ringing in the back of my mind. 

so, who am I? why am I in my bed with you? why are you looking at me?