My eyes still burn from the tears of gasoline you poured down on me.
How could someone who have given you so much joy every day could suddenly make you want to withdraw them out of your life without any sort of sirens singing around? When our two worlds collided, they were comprised of a confetti of a hundred different things, some were vibrant reds and others atrocious yellows.
From an outrageous exchange of IM’s, being picky with certain kinds of food, talking about weird teachers, sharing an umbrella when the sun’s out and when the skies throw a fit at us, and you being gaga over your bizarre fantasies that I will never understand.
The things that should have been disturbing to me, didn’t even matter. Because it was you. You were the one who mattered.
Do you remember our first conversation?*
You probably don’t. But, I still do. I was the one who approached you first. But then again as time flew by, I’m always the one approaching you first. But I never minded. I never did because I’ve always thought that it was a thing so superficial and minor that it should not have even been a thing. ‘Cause who the ******* hell cares if I talked to you first? All I wanted was to talk with you anyway. I thought it wouldn’t matter to us in the coming years.
There were those days when all I wanted to do was snuggle up close to my laptop screen and talk to you nonstop about anything left on the shelves to pick at. I’d try to tell you things of my own but you’d always manage to twist it around making every thing else about you a little so suddenly. That never failed to leave me feeling all confused and dubious, though. But I forced myself to believe that I just didn’t know how to converse as riveting as you are.
A handful of people around would tell me that I deserved better. That being with you, changed how I spoke and acted in an unpleasant way. But I thought to myself, “Why would I think that? You are so important to me. I would never."
True. Because hey, you mattered to me. But, why did it seem like I never did, even at the faintest bit, to you? What was the matter with me? Was I completely ****** for being just so comfortable with you whenever we’re talking that I even cuss, call you names and point your flaws out? I never meant every offensive thing that got to my head, though. I just crave for your attention all the time. But you still liked me around. You never showed that you even cared about me acting “psychotically”. You probably even liked me being clingy and needy like the girlfriend you never had.
But, this time… I’ll have to do something for myself. I’d have to stop thinking about what is good for you or for the both of us. I have to let go. I have to give up on the future that we picture ourselves embracing together. You have to let yourself be, and in order to do that, you have to leave me out of it. You wouldn’t want me sticking around. I couldn't stand it too, trust me.
You care about yourself more than anyone. I’m not regarding this in a standalone paragraph because it is the perceivable truth. It is in fact a sad truth but, it isn’t sad for you. You should be happy that you are being well-taken cared of. By yourself. I’ll give you a pat on the back for that.
Giving up on someone does not solely entitle the fact that you are letting go of him or her—or for the best of times, in that matter. Giving up on someone also means that you are untying the chains that sulked the bond between the two of you, and finally, becoming free.