I Am The One Who Got Away

I am the one that got away. And it’s a bittersweet love story.

It has been four years. On that gloomy Wednesday afternoon, you broke my heart. You said you were not ready, you have not still moved on from your previous relationship, and what you feel towards me was not love. You cannot even categorize what it was. The soft, brown eyes that used to adore my face cannot look straight at me now. Your lips are quivering, as if you were taking tremendous caution in choosing your phrases. But just the same, your tongue still sent sharp daggers straight to my artery. We were not lovers conversing with each other at that moment — we were just platonic strangers, touching each other’s lives accidentally.

You broke my heart. But what hurt more at that time, is the fact that I did not hear you whisper an apology, you did not say “sorry.” You took no responsibility and accountability from the wounds you have created, and walked away just like that.

Just as I was in the period of mourning, licking my wounds, and picking up the pieces of my broken heart and self, you were suddenly running back. Actually, you did not just run — you were sprinting. You visit me at the most ungodly hours of the night, you send me gifts of varying level of extravagance, you play my favorite tunes, you begged for my last dance at the party, you flirt and cuddle with me — it was as if no heart had been broken, no self-esteem had been dragged down. You walked back to my life, just like that.

I am supposed to be happy, right? Supposed to feel triumphant, supposed to feel I-told-you-I-am-the-ONE kind of emotion, right?

Wrong.

I did not wish for you to come back. I did not wish for your redemption. I did not ask for reconciliation. I did not ask for your presence. All I wished for at that time, was time and space. I was not able to mourn properly for my broken heart and spirit. I was not able to enjoy the space of being alone, sulking in a corner, reassessing my life’s choices, reassessing what had left of me. I was not able to mourn for you properly.

But, how could I ever expect you to understand and know my desires and wishes? You did not acknowledge my love for you in the first place, right? You did not ask me what I am feeling on that Wednesday afternoon; you just blurt out your sentences, like you were just talking to yourself, and didn’t even notice I was beside you.

You just loved yourself.

Now, you wanted to reclaim your role in my life. You want to be my priority again. But tell me, how could I prioritize someone who already over-prioritizes himself? How could I prioritize someone who does not know what the true essence of the word “priority” is? How could I love someone who does not need love in the first place?

You do not need love. You desire adornment. You desire recognition. You do not know how to love — you are just in love with the idea of love.

I feel so sorry for you. But I blame myself for what happened to you as well. You were so easy to love, you know. Up to this day, I still find some bittersweet comfort in the memories of your romantic gestures and thoughtful messages. Unfortunately, my love for you was not that great to transform you into a more mature, sensitive, and cherishing individual. My love was not that big in making you see things that are more important than yourself.

It has been four years. You still affect me, you know. You still touch a sensitive part of my heart and soul. I still love you, but to a different degree and level now — I am now building up myself for the next relationship I will be in.

I am not the only one that got away — in the process, we both did. I wish the best for the both of us.