It’s been so long. Yet the pain masked by the scent of cheap sex and burning vodka still lingers behind those eyes. Waking up in the morning and looking into the mirror every morning I ask myself, what was it that made you love me?
The answer only so logical, tearing me from my dreamy romance.
We aren’t optimistic people, we try to be. We don’t change, we try to.The loneliness you’ve felt so long, only I entering your realm of self isolation. I tried to make a difference. I wish could, and so did you. That’s why isn’t it? You thought your life would turnaround. You were desperate for someone.
Am I talking about myself or you?
No, I loved you because you were there, almost as important as my air. Seeing you everyday, talking to you everyday. Laughing with you everyday. Connecting with you. Dancing with your mind, I’d always show that little extra care. Manipulating you to think that I cared. When really, did I?
I care more now than I ever did, not because my love for you continues to grow. But because I think you’ll one day turn around and see me again.
You’re not my sanction. You were just the first person I felt so comfortable to open up to. Exposing sides of myself that I thought I’d never reveal.
It’s always the bluntest knives that hurt the most. I lie. Did I every really love you likei claimed or was it because you were the safest thing.
You were the benefit of the doubt and I knew you, or so I thought I knew you. Yourself, the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I never thought you’d break my heart the way you did. The way you do.
The dark eyes of yours, something that once mesmerised me so much, now fill me with fear. The nonchalant look in your eyes, the care that you no longer show, the emotions you no longer have make me tremble.
Are you the same person who said he almost loved me?no you are not. You said that person was never you. Is it? You can’t just fake a whole new character can you? Maybe it’s just a side of you that you’ve never seen so you’re just denying it to reality.
Or so I tell myself.
Almost five months on, and I still want you back. I would do anything to have you back.
But I kno tht it won’t be the same. Because there is no such thing as déjà vu. But I can only dream.
If I ever dreamed again. I’ve done things, that my own existence detests. Using friends who love me from the bottom of my heart, exploiting their weakness;me, just so I could buy twenty seconds of emptiness. Just so I wouldn’t need to think of you.
It disgusting. How can I say I was in love with you, or i am still in love with you when such I can blankly sleep with other people.
Without a moments hesitation.
Oh that’s anticlimactic, because there is hesitation, but it disperses. Because I know every time I commit such an act, it’ll taint my chances of ever being accepted by you again. And with that I hope, I wish that maybe we could go back to the way things were. Before everything.
Would I go back and choose the before? I used to confidently say I would always choose the same path because there is no regret. It was the happiest moments of my life. It still is. For now.
But truthfully, I don’t know. At times like this when I feel weak, I can only ponder on the what ifs, because only that can take me out of this reality.
A reality of me accepting the fact that we’ll never be. I miss you do much, and even if you knew it, it wouldn’t have mattered to you. Would it?
Why do I do this to myself? Peeling scabs. When I’ve finally made some progress healing?
Is it because I constantly like feeling wronged, and dramatic?
I don’t know. Maybe it has the fact to do with tonight is a Wednesday night, and you’re readily putting yourself on the market. Aren’t you? I don’t know
Why wouldn’t you, when I am evidently forcing myself to fuck other people. Man, I disgust myself.
And I know it’s wrong, but I am blaming you for that.