And I beg to disagree when you said that love shouldn’t be feared because it is.
Love makes you feel something that you haven’t even felt before. It makes you think if feeling it was normal. It makes you think that you are acting crazy. It makes you do stupid stuff. It makes you do crazy things. Things you aren’t even aware of that you would do just to see that person smile.
Every love story that has survived through time has started with once upon a time and ends with a happily ever after. But perhaps, not ours—not mine; It ended with a “you deserve someone better. goodbye.” But how? How did the clock’s gears started turning for us and then decided that it was time to stop?
It never ended the way we hoped it to be. No screaming, no violence, just plainly a sorrowful goodbye. I didn’t even begged you to stay, how could I when we already tried for the second time? But that’s the thing with endings, that’s what we remember because of the pain that lingers. But how about the beginnings?
I can never recall how it all started—when I have started having feelings. That is something that I can never really pinpoint.
Did it start with a bang? Did you have me at hello? Or perhaps by the look? Was it when you sat next to me at one class and said hi?
I know it was not one of those fairy tales where the prince meets the princess in the ball—NO. It was not that magical to remember yet you were someone who had so much impact in my life. And I guess I don’t want to remember too deep. It’ll always be a mystery on how everything began.
I know how this ends – I just forgot how it started, a.f.a.
I remembered how your love for me was like a suitcase neatly packed — ready to go when things gets worst.
Maybe it started with the small fights that you eventually decided to get a suitcase. And with each fight you packed a couple of things or maybe two. It came to a point that you are already full and you decided that just one more and you’re gonna leave this hellhole. And afterwards, you did.
You left and never looked back. You left but there are also things that you’ve left with me —things you want to get rid of, things that are not worth keeping, things that are easily replaced.
I can’t imagine how easy it was for you just to leave like that without notice and perhaps now, I understand it a little bit better.
You were ready to leave me when things gets worst. You were always thinking about yourself; not thinking about the person that you left behind. Because in your mind, you may have the intention to come back, but deep down you know you never did.
Like a computer, I need to be refreshed. To put some new information and perhaps delete some in me and I’m not talking about logic or facts but new information about my feelings— of how I am doing.
To be honest, everything is routine now. Wake up-work-watch tv series-read-sleep and the same thing happens everyday. And this kinda bores me. But I guess that’s life and maybe that’s why I need constant refreshment to add new things in my life and make it colorful.
Also, with refreshing, you also delete things to add new stuff and I guess, this is where my hatred for you goes. I don’t hate you anymore but I’m still not ready and I know I haven’t moved on. It’s just the hatred is now gone and with it goes with my anger. Anger, the driving force of what makes me write the past few weeks.
I guess, I needed a new feeling, feel a new emotion, find a different driving force, something new to do everyday.
I write in a place where my emotions are too vulnerable. When I know that the words I wanna say just flows out of me, a place wherein nobody cares, a place where people do not know nor care what I am doing, in a place with no name.
I just keep on writing and writing and writing and sometimes it leaves me with unfinished pieces. I keep hoping that someday, that the old spark that made me write, will be back— that the unfinished stories will be finished—to have a closure—to put to an end to what I am feeling.
All I have is my netbook named, Sheldon and an iPod called, Pyxis (And yes, they have names). All my writings placed in a folder where no one else can find. In the simplest places you didn’t expect, where my eyes are the only ones who can see.