Once again, you killed me. I am still in the process of trying to move on; to pick up the pieces that I let you shatter. But everytime I think that I don’t care anymore or that I’m okay , its all just a facade, because deep down inside, I still do and I’m not. I really did want to believe in that lie that I made up.

You left me in a very dark place down the rabbit hole. And you see, everyday, I was trying to climb that hole with everyone that I care about supporting me — helping me — reaching for my hand every step in the way. But you just have to push me back down that hole didn’t you? Do you take pleasure in seeing me being hurt? Are you happy seeing me bruised and scarred as I was falling down?  That the effort of the people who helped me, be pushed aside, just for you to make your fucking point? And the worst thing is, I don’t see your point. It doesn’t make sense to me.

You were the one who left me and I’m the one who’s stuck—the one that you left in a very dark tunnel. And that’s when I learned to embraced the darkness. Darkness has become a part of me, but I guess not enough because after all, I’m scared—once again.

But maybe I should try looking at it in a different angle.

You’re hurt. I’m hurt. We both are but at least I’m not acting nor even trying to be a jerk about it. This has always been your defense mechanism and I hate it that you keep doing this. It’s fine really, but what you don’t realize is that you are hurting people because of it. All you think is about yourself. But maybe its also your way of saying “Hate me. Hate me. You should because I’m a jerk who has done nothing but hurt you and this is why you should move on because you deserve so much better.” It’s not working though. Everytime I think that I could actually move on and not give a fuck about it, I always go back to thinking about you, wondering if you’re okay. But you’re probably not okay.

You’re also stuck in a rabbit hole. But yours is so much deeper and darker. When we were together I tried to pulled you out, but you slipped away, thinking that you deserve to be down there and I can’t help you because you can only help yourself. And what you are doing right now? Is not helping, as a matter of fact, you are making it worse. But who am I to tell you what to do?

You have become more miserable. And one day, when you’re reading this? I hope you are not as fucked up as you are now. I decided not to fight for us—for you not to get worse, I did it, because I think it was better for you—for us.

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To The Person Who I Didn’t Ask To Stay,

The time that we had was a fleeting moment, a time we borrowed with the Gods to let us have this chance, a short-lived fairytale not to have a happy ending.

The time we shared was our little infinite. You made me feel things in a short span of time. As cliche as it sounds, you made me feel the queen of the world—that no one else matters; that I was a piece of gem too rare and too precious to have.

But then things changed. We have fights—fights we didn’t use to have. Petty fights that turned into big arguements. And then that was it, you had enough of me.

You love me, but you left. And I choked on all the words I wanted to say. And maybe that’s why I didn’t ask you to stay for one more time.

After all, how could I? When I was only making you miserable? When you think that I care about the difference in our social classes? Maybe it was a matter of pride for you, but I couldn’t care less. I tried saving you, I really did. I gave you everything but I wasn’t enough. I can’t save you and maybe that’s why I let you walk away.

I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you to stay. I’m sorry. Maybe you wanted to hear that I’ll fight for you and I’ll never let you go. And I did, a couple of times, I begged you to stay. But I’m tired of fighting for us. What’s the point if I’m the only one who still want the idea of us? It was just not me in this relationship but the both of us. It was you who gave up on us. As hard as it sounds, this is why I let you walk away. And this is when I say goodbye.

You don’t understand. You can’t and you never will. You don’t know what it feels like to feel all the pain and feel numb next and still be in love with him. And the funny thing is, I thought you would, but you didn’t.

You see, I cannot hate him. I can’t and perhaps, no matter how hard I try, I never will. But isn’t that what makes this world so beautifully cruel? That you can never hate the person that you love the most but you keep on thinking that it would be so much easier of you would. This is a paradox and the most vicious one.

He left and yet came back wanting for us to be friends. I know I shouldn’t accept him after all the times that he has hurt me, but then what could I do? I love him. I can’t leave him broken and miserable.

All I can do is support him and when he’s better; I’ll slowly slip away, pretend that it’s not killing me and gradually forget him, if I can. Someday, these feelings will be gone. And I’ll tell you how tragically beautiful it would be to stop hurting and accept the life I have now. And when that time comes, I hope you understand.

Years from now, maybe I will still think about him of what had and could have been but then I will feel no regret that we tried. I will feel no remorse but only acceptance. That it’s better to leave things like this than continue dragging him down. And when the time comes perhaps he and I will meet again. And when that happens, I hope we’re happy.

Cliff Jump

  
And I asked you, “What are you willing to do for me?”,
You said, you’ll do anything,
So we walked together to the cliff,
With our hands entwined—and jumped.

I can feel the air,
As I was already falling,
And you were still at the cliff too afraid to jump—too afraid to try,
You didn’t push me but you just watched me,
—As you just let me die.

Promise Me

Promise me you’ll think of me during sunny days and remember the happiness that we felt when we’re together for the first time; when we found our way back into each other’s arms; the first time that we kissed; and everything good in between.

If it’s one of those gloomy grey days remember the way we fought about the smallest things; the day when we had out very first big fight and the consecutive days that we just keep in fighting. All the petty jealousies and my insecurities; the way we let our pride tear us apart.

And promise me, when it rains you’ll think of me. The way I cried my heart out when we broke up for the first time. The way we cried when we thought we’re gonna be torn apart by my mother. The way I cried when you told me you’re not sure if you still love me.

But as the night approaches and the stars appear, remember our deep conversations; the deepest and darkest things that we’ve shared to each other; the way we argued about life and respecting each other’s opinion in the end; the way we found light in each other’s darkness; the first time that we walked together under the starry deep blue sky.

And as you sleep, forget about me and move on. Because all I am is a memory. A memory of what we were—of what we could have been.