What is left now? The ash of the flames that we had. The fire that we had was so beautiful, so warm, the flames were enticing me to experience more of you. I came nearer and nearer, little did I know, that that love would put me on fire. I watched myself burned, slowly and slowly. I roared and cried out loud but you didn’t hear a thing. You could have saved me by preventing the fire to spread out through pouring vigorous amount of water but you chose to blew the fire; you blew it so hard—huffing and puffing; igniting and teasing the fire. And with that, I wanted you to open your eyes and watched me as I was slowly fading away along with the traces of feelings and memories of us. This was how you lost me.
So here you are again, pestering me with calls and messages after the last conversation we had. I really thought that was the last. You talked to me jovially. As you were talking to me, you noticed that I kept showing disinterest, you paused for a while, and you suddenly went outrageous nagging me for being so cold; that I was acting like I wasn’t interested talking to you at all. I was about to open my mouth, ready to defend myself when you said, we would just talk again some other time when I gather myself back together. I decided not to say a thing. Silence. Then I pressed the end button. I heaved a deep sigh. Didn’t you know I’ve come this far gathering the pieces of me that you have viciously shattered into million pieces? You talked to me as if nothing happened; as if we were fine; where in fact, we are beyond irreparable. We’re both damaged people trying to seek for repair. I was realistic and you were in denial. I’d like to think that you are somehow afraid of the thought of losing me. But you’ve lost me a long time ago. And that’s fine. I know, I should have cut off every connection we have, perhaps there are still pieces of me that are wanting you to stay a little bit more.
I’m not expecting nor telling you to stay with me. I couldn’t stay with an intoxicated love, it’s not love anyway. All those times, I thought that you owed me an explanation. All those times, I was hoping to receive an apology from you. I wish you would admit all your wrongdoings no matter how painful it could be. I thought that maybe just maybe after hearing those things, I would be able to move on with my life and let go all the things that are hurting me. But instead, you showered me with things that my heart wanted to hear like how much you love and miss me. But I no longer want that, for they are just merely empty words. They do not mean anything to me anymore. I have then realized that I was waiting for apologies that would never be said, with or without apologies, I have gone so far walking away from you. I could still see you in my peripheral view. I couldn’t wait the time that I could no longer see your image. I heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that I was finally freed from your selfishness. I cringed my head and discerned with the fact that that person who was standing behind me was just an illusion I had created you to be, you were now one of those strangers I had met along the way. The realization hits me off—I don’t know you. I don’t even know you anymore. I’m not even sure if I really know you in the first place.
I have already boxed the memories we had, I separated the good and the bad and the lessons in each. I, thank you for the life-altering lessons you’ve taught me but I’m not staying.
Just in case it isn’t clear yet. I love you no more. So please, go your way and I’ll go mine.
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