THEN. We crossed paths, but never shoulder-to-shoulder. I stopped talking to hear my heart shatter. But you continued walking: home, towards your life, somewhere I cannot enter.
I should really talk to you. My friends grew tired of the drama, my pens stopped puking metaphors. I should really talk to you.
AT THAT MOMENT: I want to say a lot of things but I can’t remember them all now, here. So I’m just gonna say that I’ve tried keeping these feelings to myself for a year now, not admitting it because I thought these will just go away eventually. But they did not so, here I am, someone with a fucked up life, admitting to you who I barely know that I really, really, really, really love you.
Then I whispered, Do we have a chance? And you answered with a smile that killed me because there’s none.
NOW: Well, since I’ve made a great fool of myself already, why not push the envelope? Why not make a saint of this martyrdom? Why not write a book of these assumptions? Although the truth is stabbing me frontal, I refuse to give up because why give up now? Why not give up when I’m already dead inside, because that’s where I am heading in the first place. In the end, if ever we may be given the chance to confront each other, I’d rather say, ‘I did not give up on you. You gave up on me.’ But know that I love you. I don’t know but this love may even surpass space and time. 😦