I have had enough.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t
think, I can’t write. I dread every day…
…of seeing you before me and being
unable to do anything about it. Of knowing the effect that we have on each
other, marking the air between us with palpable uncertainty.
And I brought it upon us. I refuted
your affections. I doubted your sincerity. I couldn’t stand the idea of being
claimed.
But you and I, we both can’t do
without each other, can we? Or was it my wishful thinking all along?
You, who prevails upon my mind like a
bittersweet memory, forever haunting my waking moments; you, whose image
unfailingly manifests in my troubled dreams; you, who I held onto for hope, for
kindness and love…you became my own creation even before I got to know you.
And to see you in person is to bring
all those visions crashing down, rendering me dismayed and wondering how easily
I could get carried away.
It was never about you. It was always
me, my convoluted thinking, my need for dependence that you came to fulfill, my unwillingness
to accept you for who you are, my indifference to your struggle to bridge the
gap between us that I only chose to emphasize more and more as we grew closer.
I wish I could be more forthcoming,
but I can’t. For your sake, I won’t.
Nonetheless, you meant something to
me…still do, always will and I wasn’t walking away.
Is this the way it ends? Are you
content to leave this behind simply because it did not culminate the way you
intended it to be?
To think we got this far, to think we
rushed into taking a call; I am but bound by the stand I took.
And in the throes of a dying
attachment, all I can say is: don’t leave me. Come back.
For I would walk towards you if I
could but I can only meet you halfway. And so it is.
