I Still Write About You

I Still Write About You

I know I shouldn’t. There are no more new memories to write about. There are no more plans to consider. There are no more you and I. But there are days when I am hunkered down writing snippets or half-assed poems of how we once were, like this very hour. It is just another Saturday evening, I don’t have plans on going out, what I intend on doing is stare at my wall for the rest of the weekend without actually going crazy. Yet, here I am, writing about you. Immortalizing your existence through words that escape this chaotic mind. You don’t deserve to be put in a pedestal, for the record this is not me putting you up there for all the world to know. This is me, trying to tip toe through the wreck you have made. This is me, trying to make peace with the demons you created inside my head. This is me, doing it for myself. Think whatever you want to think, but this is me, grieving, accepting the hand I was dealt, slowly picking my scattered self up and try to put it back together – put it back to how it was once before you happened.


                  I heard about her.


                  How she is the complete opposite of me. How she craves adventures, how she agrees on your whims and caprices, how she makes her world stop just to be with you. She looks kind, maybe under different circumstance we could have been friends. She looked like she could take care of you, do the things you want her to do, give up her dreams just to make you happy – yes, she looks like you are her world and things revolved around you. I once had that look, I know it. I once put you first, I once made sure your happiness far outweighs mine, and I was fine with it. I was fine being on the side line, seeing you build your own career, see you be great at what you do, go take your adventures without me, I was there and I saw it all. I was fine not seeing you on Valentine’s because you had to work, I was fine when you couldn’t be with me at the hospital when my dad was confined because you had to do something more important, I was fine seeing you for just an hour because you got better things to do – I was fine with it all. Until I wasn’t. Until I have come to my senses. Until I realized I don’t deserve the kind of love you are giving me. Until I realized I deserve more. I deserve the whole of you – not some leftovers, not some crumbs, I was done living off of it. I was done losing myself and the goals I have for my life.


                  You were there with me physically but your mind wandered off to God knows where. There were days when you are too closed off, you wouldn’t want to let me in. I’ve put up with it for five years. Five long years. I grew up believing into something you promised. And it hurt me a little too much how you ended it by saying you got another girl pregnant. How to me it looked so unapologetic, you said it was just an accident, that you didn’t love her, or that it was just a one-time thing and boy, you expected me to believe you. And do you know what is stupid? I started to believe you. I was starting to accept the lies that rolled out of your mouth so easily. I was afraid you’d leave. I was afraid to be on my own.


                  I loved you even when I probably shouldn’t. I gave my all when probably I should have stopped. I grabbed your hands unaware that you wanted to let go so bad. I built my life with you in it, but I never saw where I placed in yours. Your words were all lies, and I was too blinded to see all that. I remembered when we were driving home once, you asked me in a nonchalant way, if I will marry you, I never answered yes, I asked you back with a why? You were confused, and said Don’t you want to be married to me? And I answered, It’s not that I don’t want to be married to you, it’s just that it wasn’t the right moment, it wasn’t how it should be.” And I left it at that, we just had a fight the week before that. I didn’t want to start yet another, but what I wanted to say was, how can you ask me to marry you when you have not given yourself to me completely? Why would you want to marry me when what we had was just something “safe” not the whirlwind romance they talk about, it felt like our relationship consisted of the two of us putting up with each other’s hangups and shits, throw something in the wall and see what sticks kind of relationship. It wasn’t love in the most beautiful, magical, forever kind – it was a compromise at best. And we didn’t know it then. Were we so young and naïve to not notice how we drain the joy out of each other?


                  I sometimes think what was the point of us meeting each other? What was the point of going through all that? We just ended up resenting each other. I guess what hurts me the most, was the fact that despite all the pain, we had good days. And maybe I should just hold on to that, and let the rest go. Let the rest of it go, and finally let go of you completely. I couldn’t live forever thinking all the what might have beens, it had to end somewhere, somehow. I just want to end it now. 


Published by Eunice Moral

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