It's said that the longer you try to keep something away, the deeper it's impression has on you. I fell even harder this time. I wasn't sure if this was love or guilt, it kept me at bay - it felt the same.

The first day i ever loved her, must have been or perhaps should have been the day i cherish the most; instead, it became the day that trips me over and shoves me deep into a pit of sorrow and guilt. I can't seem to get out of it. I hurt the only love of my life.

Call me depressed, maniac or just a socially awkward ****, it doesn't matter, the day i made her cry all over again, caused her pain - I became all of it.

Not only did I deprive her of all the happiness and laughter she deserved, but I also filled her with doubt, distress and hatred. I birthed Pain which cripled me with anxiety and hopelessness. As a parent it should have been my duty to look after her, but my anguished soul abandoned her. I didn't dare think about how it must have terrorised her, yet when I look at her, seeking mercy, I see her pretty face, scarred by my pathetic self: laughing, hiding too much behind that pretty smile.

If only I could make her happy. If only I could look after her without fragmenting her soul even more.