Your words gave me open wounds that are incapable of healing..

The moment you said, "I have no feelings for you," cuts right through my very soul. It leaves an opening through my shallow being welcoming the next words you are about to bestow.

"You are not just my type," it's like raging bolts of electricity running through my body and I can't move, I can't even raise a finger to tell you to stop.. Please, stop this bleeding.

I was about to regain control of my senses but you added, "we can still be friends though," that it's as if nothing happened. Like my feelings never happened, like you never listened, like you didn't cut me open, like you didn't have me bleeding to death, like you never throw me daggers in form of words.

And you asked, for the first time, "are you okay?" I gathered all my strength to forestall my voice from breaking as I retorted, "I'm good." I bit my lip the moment my mouth turns like a time bomb that's a few seconds away from explosion and I'm victorious.

The words "it just hurts a lot," didn't escape from my mouth averting myself from going to the place you've given me. Say, friendzone?

I watched you walked away realizing you actually helped me by closing off the arteries of my wounds by giving me a cold treatment.

I mouthed, "thank you," but you didn't see it. Thank you for releasing my favorite demon, hatred..

..this way, I will prevent myself from massive destruction that is yearning to make me feel something good, something vibrant, something lighthearted.. Say, like love?

Thank you for leaving me wounds that covers my body, and soon enough it will be scars that will remind me of how painful it is to make someone look at you the exact same way you're looking at them. Confucius quote, "there is one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life: Reciprocity."

..But reciprocity is not a decree.