Jul 2017
It was around February when I started to question everything I knew about him. I wasn't sure if what I was feeling towards him was even “real”. I would look at his name and I used think how lucky I was to have him as a friend. I used to believe that everything he did and said was meant to sweep me off my feet and for a moment they did. It felt like my head was stuck in the clouds and I couldn't even feel my own weight. It felt like every single bone in my body was meant to love him.
and maybe I did.
I loved him for the way he said hello. It wasn’t the typical “hi” you would expect, but instead, he would go straight to what he wanted to talk about. I loved him for the way he called me on the phone because he wanted to hear my voice instead of read the messages I always took much time on typing because I wanted to impress him. I loved the way he laughed at my jokes when we both knew I was trying too hard. I loved the way he would invite me to walk with him because he wanted some fresh air and time to be alone. I loved his passion for poetry and languages. I loved that we both love to write and I loved how he asked me to do some writing with him.
I loved the way he asked me to the dance. I don’t usually like attention, but the way he planned it all out on that stage in front of more than 50 people made me feel worth more than the time he spent actually preparing. He said, “Roses are red, horses do a prance, will you let me take you to the dance?” and of course, I said yes. It wasn’t because of the longing eyes staring, waiting for me to say it. I said yes because I loved the way he wrote poems. I loved the way he read them to me and how he treasured them so much. I said yes, simply because I believed every word he said to me.
"I believed every word he said to me."
and it was the worst mistake I have ever made.
There isn’t anyone to blame but myself for this hurt I have and still am feeling because I did this to myself. There was always someone telling me
‘Don’t trust him’
‘He’s not who you think he is’
But somehow he made me ignore the friends who I always sought advice from, the ones who always looked after me when I wasn’t being myself, the ones who warned me about this heartbreak I’m feeling right now. I didn’t want to believe them.
I always found myself defending him.
"He’s too serious"- he means what he says.
"He’s ignoring your messages"- he’s busy with school.
"He’s taking advantage of you"- he just wants to get to know me.
"He wrote about someone else"- …
"He asked you to the dance because the first option would’ve said no"- …
"He shared his poems because he’s in love"- …
"He’s in love with someone else"- …
"I loved the way he wrote poems", I said. The poems I didn’t know went so deep into his heart, dedicated to those who have stolen it.
"I loved the way he asked me to the dance", I said. The dance he wished he could have gone to with someone else.
"I loved how he asked me to do some writing with him", I said. A few months later he’s performing a slam poetry with another girl who is soon labeled as his girlfriend.
"I loved the way he called me on the phone", I said. He never called me again after the 3rd time.
"I loved him for the way he said hello", I said. I haven’t heard from him for more than 2 months.
It was around the end of summer when I started to question everything I knew about him. I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was real anymore. I would look at his name then look away. I wanted to believe that none of it was true- that none of the poems he wrote were for her. That she wasn’t lingering in the back of his mind when he was the only one stuck in mine. That he didn’t use me to fill up the empty space she left, only to be replaced by someone else in the end.- I wanted to believe that I deserved more.
and maybe I do.
and maybe I did.
I loved him for the way he said hello. It wasn’t the typical “hi” you would expect, but instead, he would go straight to what he wanted to talk about. I loved him for the way he called me on the phone because he wanted to hear my voice instead of read the messages I always took much time on typing because I wanted to impress him. I loved the way he laughed at my jokes when we both knew I was trying too hard. I loved the way he would invite me to walk with him because he wanted some fresh air and time to be alone. I loved his passion for poetry and languages. I loved that we both love to write and I loved how he asked me to do some writing with him.
I loved the way he asked me to the dance. I don’t usually like attention, but the way he planned it all out on that stage in front of more than 50 people made me feel worth more than the time he spent actually preparing. He said, “Roses are red, horses do a prance, will you let me take you to the dance?” and of course, I said yes. It wasn’t because of the longing eyes staring, waiting for me to say it. I said yes because I loved the way he wrote poems. I loved the way he read them to me and how he treasured them so much. I said yes, simply because I believed every word he said to me.
"I believed every word he said to me."
and it was the worst mistake I have ever made.
There isn’t anyone to blame but myself for this hurt I have and still am feeling because I did this to myself. There was always someone telling me
‘Don’t trust him’
‘He’s not who you think he is’
But somehow he made me ignore the friends who I always sought advice from, the ones who always looked after me when I wasn’t being myself, the ones who warned me about this heartbreak I’m feeling right now. I didn’t want to believe them.
I always found myself defending him.
"He’s too serious"- he means what he says.
"He’s ignoring your messages"- he’s busy with school.
"He’s taking advantage of you"- he just wants to get to know me.
"He wrote about someone else"- …
"He asked you to the dance because the first option would’ve said no"- …
"He shared his poems because he’s in love"- …
"He’s in love with someone else"- …
"I loved the way he wrote poems", I said. The poems I didn’t know went so deep into his heart, dedicated to those who have stolen it.
"I loved the way he asked me to the dance", I said. The dance he wished he could have gone to with someone else.
"I loved how he asked me to do some writing with him", I said. A few months later he’s performing a slam poetry with another girl who is soon labeled as his girlfriend.
"I loved the way he called me on the phone", I said. He never called me again after the 3rd time.
"I loved him for the way he said hello", I said. I haven’t heard from him for more than 2 months.
It was around the end of summer when I started to question everything I knew about him. I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was real anymore. I would look at his name then look away. I wanted to believe that none of it was true- that none of the poems he wrote were for her. That she wasn’t lingering in the back of his mind when he was the only one stuck in mine. That he didn’t use me to fill up the empty space she left, only to be replaced by someone else in the end.- I wanted to believe that I deserved more.
and maybe I do.
