Books, Books, Books!
Oh, Hello Kitty!
And there goes my Chinny-Chin-Chin Smile.
A Damsel's Melancholy
Maybe it's The Smiths on play that makes me feel the need to write something. Or the coffee beside me that was once hot but now cold. Or my one year old snobby Angora cat that I named Fox, sleeping like an angel in my unmade single bed that I was able to lay down for an hour or two, kidding myself that I could go to sleep with the thoughts of him in my mind. Well obviously, I can't.
And here I am, sitting in my room wide awake with a notebook laying on the table and a pen in my right hand wondering how I can get him out of my fucking head. It's 2:36 in the morning, only the dim light from the lamp in my room make me see things and even the darkness around me can't even swallow all those bittersweet memories of him down to a place where good memories kept but was made to be forgotten. I can't stop thinking about him and it's freaking me out. He's inside my brain - and in my heart - happily torturing me for not leaving. Just there, thoughts of him kept on replaying, making me regret everything I did five months ago.
I never thought I'll be writing about him again. But I don't think I have the strength to resist it because I know, deep inside me, I want to.
I want to see his eyes again; those brown eyes that was full of awe and lightheartedness. Those brown eyes that made me see things in a different direction, like a little firefly in darkness summoning me, guiding me and taking me to a perfect paradise where no one else could go but us. Those brown eyes that looked at me like I was the only one that matters. Those brown eyes that made me feel loved. Those brown eyes that made me love myself as much as I could.
And I want to hear his voice again; that one sexy voice that gave me butterflies in my stomach every time I hear it, making me want to kiss him and never let him go. That one sexy voice that never failed to amaze me when he talk like a wise man or even being just plain stupid. That one sexy voice that sing me funny improvised lullabies every time I came over and spend my night in his house. That one sexy voice that I love to hear when sometimes, he's deeply asleep but talking regardless of. That one sexy voice that never failed to make me feel loved by always whispering "I love you" in my ears whenever he wants to. That one sexy voice that made me so damn happy just by hearing it.
And his touch that kept me coming back for more. And his addicting smell with or without perfume on. And his smile, how can I ever forget that one wide amazing smile? And how adorable his toxic laugh is. And the way he move his body with that weird dance step just to make me smile whenever I'm troubled and sad. And that one time he tried to cook dinner for us but failed because he didn't know how to and just said "sorry" with puppy eyes and we just laughed about the too salty burned chicken he prepared for the night. He didn't want me to eat it because we both know it's terrible and so I ended up cooking another one for both of us instead. But he didn't know I still ate some of it before going to sleep because I love to, because he made it for me.
Those little things, those happy memories. Him. Me. Together. Happy. And in love. For two and almost a half years. We are happy. We were happy.
We were happy not long enough before I say, "I can't do this anymore."
He was a great guy. He is no near perfect but for me, he is. He didn't cheat on me, not even one time and I swear to God I didn't cheated on him, too. He treated me right, I treated him right. He's happy every time we're together and I'll be a liar if I'll say I wasn't happy spending my time with him, too. I was happy being his girl, I was happy with him being my man. He loves me, I love him.
So why did I left him? Why did I changed my mind? Why did I made him cry that one sunny day in the park? Why did I let him kneel in front of me and in front of all the strangers watching us, watching him begging for an answer why I can't be with him anymore, begging for me to stay? Why did I just stand there watching him suffer because of me? Why did I let him chase me for an answer to his one question? Why did I avoided all his eighty seven calls for two weeks just for the answer that we both know he deserves? Why? Why did I fucking change my mind?
And that I'm afraid to answer. I'm afraid because up until now, I don't even know how to. I didn't know why or what or when or who or how I changed my mind. I don't know. I just don't know why.
Screw me. Screw me for letting him go. Screw me for breaking his heart. Screw me because I hurt him so much. Screw me for making him cry. Screw me for saying goodbye and never tried to get him back.
I'm a horrible human being, I know. And I'm not fine. I'm totally not. I'm not doing great. For almost five months, I was never okay. I'm a fool to let him go. I'm insane to break his heart.
I thought I could move on from what I did, from breaking both of our hearts. But I never did. And as time goes by, I came to realize that I never wanted to forget him - at all. I mean, yes we'll be on our separate lives like how it was before we met each other, like how every story start and I was totally okay with that. But in our lives, there's always this one person who would make you feel... I don't know, attached maybe? That no matter how hard you try to let yourself drift away by the ocean of time, there's this one tiny-almost-invisible string that will always connect you with someone, with that someone.
I never heard of him since that last day we met two weeks after our one-sided break up. In the same park where I said, "Yes" and also the place where I said that one heartbreaking confusing line, "I can't do this anymore." That park was used to be our favorite place to go to; the green grass, the huge trees, the blue skies, the fresh breeze of air, the people around us, picnic blanket, foods and drinks, books and magazines, earphones and music, card games, me... and him. It was perfect and I ruined it. The fact that I don't even know why I did it makes it much even worse.
That one cloudy day, that last day. It was awkward, like really. He asked that one question I've been asking myself in the most coldest way that he could, "Why?"
I know how hurt he was because of me. I can see it in his brown eyes, full of sorrow and hatred and love. All I want to do was hug him, kiss him and tell him how sorry I am and that I'm ready to do whatever it takes for him to forgive me and take me back and that I love him so much.
And then I said, "I just don't love you anymore. I don't love you and I think I never did."
But I did. I still do.
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