We were both broken with some shattered pieces so sharp it bleeds the flesh and the pain breaks our voices when we spoke. I spoke about my failure in my usual sarcastic ways--somehow it does not hurt as much when I'm talking about it with someone like you than with a close friend of mine (or myself). You spoke about your failure as if it was just a normal thing--but it wasn't the same. My failure was my own doing. You failure was... my guess is, something unforeseeable. You survived what I barely even had the strength to begin. You fight and fight and struggle, and eventually crash and burn. I was supposed to fight... but somehow the voices inside my head convinced me that the other person stops fighting, so I took a flight and become a ghost.
The truth is, I was just a coward.
Truth is, the voice inside my head is just me and my deadly assumptions. I listened to her, and at the end of the day, tried to blame everything on timing. Timing is a bitch. Everyone knows that. I shouldn't have to be another one.
The truth is, I was just a coward.
Truth is, the voice inside my head is just me and my deadly assumptions. I listened to her, and at the end of the day, tried to blame everything on timing. Timing is a bitch. Everyone knows that. I shouldn't have to be another one.
I don't know you. Or her. I was not aware of how beautiful your union was, but believe it was the kind that nobody would ever want to let go. After all, what you survived--at least for the part that you did--is a fairytale to me. I knew back then as we were drinking in your balcony and the night wind rustles between our hair: you were trying to hold back your tears, so you shut me up with a kiss. You knew I would keep asking. I understood that I have the look of someone who keeps on taking the part as the footnote in someone else's love story... perhaps including this one.
Maybe things will get better someday. She will be back soon, and, maybe things will be good again between you. Things are never beyond repair for two people who are meant to be together anyway.
It is strange even for me to wish such thing for you. Here's the catch though: you can't force yourself to forget. You can't see two hundred people or one person two hundred times just for the pain to go away. The pain will stick with you; making you lose sleep or deliberately stare outside the window for ten minutes straight. Or some variations of that.
The truth is, healing is not linear. Yes, eventually everything will be better with time, but time is a bitch we shouldn't trust. Yes, we have to proactively try to walk away from all the pain, but every now and then we will fall into a slump and be forced to climb back up with bare hands to keep walking. Healing does not happen all at once. You don't wake up in the morning feeling like that someone is completely locked in the past that's behind you. Every once in a while, you wake up in the morning, open Instagram, and there it is... the slump. You fall. You have to choose to go back up, climb with the remaining will and strength that you have, and that's something that you have to keep doing until somehow, the slump isn't a slump. The slump will look just like downhill slope, and you will effortlessly walk up the inclination, not climbing up a wall with no rope or a safety net underneath.
We both know by now that you're not him and I'm not her. We both know that, maybe if we look just a tiny bit closer, we will see that we're so wrong for each other. Perhaps like those failures, we didn't meet at the right timing. Perhaps, if people are to be believed, we are here for a purpose: and that purpose is to help each other heal. I know you're not going to replace him just like I'm not going to replace her. But we can be here for each other because maybe nobody else understands better. Maybe two broken people can lift each other up, climb that slump or cry together. Who knows what we are here for... just like who knows what they were for in our lives before.
