I was hurt. I was a broken piece of unfinished artwork that hangs back on my memories of pain, frustration, and guilt. I was alone. I was a desolate nomad in my unending tread toward distress and misery. You left me damaged and all I can remember was your indifference and far-reaching lack of interest and empathy. You made the person I am today—afraid and unwilling to trust.
But no matter how hard I convince myself to forget the unkind idea that is you, my heart says every single time that I must not. My heart, as it continues to bleed for you, still cannot hate you. There were days I grew tired of caring and thinking about you, but I still cannot stop from doing so. I am frightened by the idea that I may not live and go through life again the way I wanted it to be. I know it’s selfish. I know it’s not gonna do me any good and the heavens know how many times I prayed for acceptance and, peace but this pain is something I am willing to go through time upon time; that you were a blind spot I am willing to overlook because no scenery is better than seeing you happy.
From the moment I first felt affection toward you to the time I realized that something was wrong, holding on was the only thing I know I had the courage to do. For times, abuse and mishandling were the only food on my plate, and those were days of troubled waking up, of eating, of seeing and talking to you, troubled days of knowing that I cannot even breathe away from you.
For the longest time, I chose not to fight back because I know it will hurt you. I chose not to tell and involve you in my problems because I was afraid of causing you strain and discomfort.
Today, I am choosing to stay where I am most comfortable waiting, here in a distant field full of bittersweet reminiscences about you. I don’t know where this desolation will take me, but there’s one thing I am sure of—I have learned love as much as I knew pain. And that’s a good enough reason for me to still hold on—maybe not to the idea that one day you will love me back, but rather holding onto the courage that perhaps you’ll realize how worthy a person you really are. Regardless of the lies I hear, of the mistakes you do, and the chances to change you ignored, I still am the same person who’s willing to keep and appreciate you. I know it hurts to care, but it hurts more to hope that you’ll change one day, realizing all that you do is walk the path you never wanted yourself to walk; realizing that the decisions you make bring you the person you never saw yourself becoming. But I am still here—still here uncomplainingly and patiently waiting.