I always thought I would be the one who would walk way from you.
I deliberated over it and pondered upon it. And I really tried. I’ve tried saying goodbye to you more times than I can remember. Every moment I had with you, I let my gaze linger on you for just a little longer. I hungrily looked at your sun-kissed skin, wanting more than anything to place feather light touches all over you. I looked at you in full wonder, from your sharp jaw to your kissable, soft lips and was taken away by your strong presence. I smiled at you the brightest smile I could muster only to be greeted by your annoyed scowl.
Every moment I had with you I cherished it, as through it was our last. Every piece of affection you gave me I held it close to my heart, knowing you were incapable of giving more. Every hello I said to you, I braced myself for our eventual farewell.
But fate has a way of playing with us. When the day came, I was not the one who did the deed. Despite my thorough preparation on what to say and do, despite how I’ve fantasized my cool, collected self waving you off nonchalantly, despite how I willed myself to be logical and steel-hearted, I couldn’t do it.
I tried to hold on to what was left of us. I tried to love you when all you did was hurt me. We were toxic for each other. And I guess you had enough. One day in the midst of our heated argument, you just stood up and left. There was no explanation or warning.
I was left numb with shock trying to process what actually happened. It’s ironic, isn’t it? This was what I wanted, wasn’t it. So why does it hurt so much when you finally ripped the bandage off and left? Since the first day, when our eyes met across the crowd and the first time we talk, I knew there were no us. I knew there was only right now, and nothing beyond that.
I knew, yet I dove right in. I knew, yet I still desperately hoped I was wrong. I knew, yet I still couldn’t help but love you.
Knowing about our eventual end doesn’t lessen the blow. It doesn’t extinguish the faint hope that you would come back. It doesn’t quiet the chaos in my mind from thinking about you. It doesn’t stop the wild yearning in my heart from missing you.
But beneath all this hurt, the rational side of my brain is grateful for you. For taking the plunge and cutting off our ties. For biting the bullet and doing what was necessary. For being coldblooded enough to accomplish what I did not have the heart to do.
Thank you for letting me go and in doing so, you ended my torment. Thank you for leaving me and letting me fly high and free.
Thank you for not loving me because I will transform this destructive love I had for you to a love for myself.
Your leaving may signify the end of us but my future has only just begun.