I want to move on. But how can I do that when I wasn’t really in love with you? Yes, maybe after all, I wasn’t really in love with you. It’s not even infatuation or something they call attraction. Maybe for a fraction of a second, I just saw you differently and that lingered.
That certain difference you brought me for a fleeting second became hours that turned into days…and days into months. During the darkest days when the storm is its full blown power, you brought the sunshine in. I won’t tell you it is because of your smile, nor the horrible way you walk as you thump your way into the room—rather it is your presence. That very presence of yours was a strong aura filing the room, reeling me in and I…I became a willing victim.
Because every time I looked at you then, I saw you differently. You became the epitome of the comfort I want to have—what I have in mind. A perfect prince charming in for a damsel in distress. Rapunzel would’ve been a pale comparison to me. I always look forward to idle times when I can be able to talk to you.
Things I shared might have sounded stupid, but it doesn’t matter then. I want you to tell me anything; consequently, I want to tell you everything. You can argue all you want, tell me your beliefs or something as trivial as that random snail climbing on the wall of your house, or the offhanded topics I don’t really care about as long as you are talking. I want to listen to you talk even when it’s already the break of dawn or I haven’t peed for almost 6 hours. I would rather hold that pee than to miss any of your words.
Because every time I listened to you then, I saw you differently. You became my wonder wall of thoughts and I became the reflection of your beliefs. If you’ve been a religion, I would’ve been a faithful follower.
Biases are too obvious when it comes to you, because to you, I cannot ever say no. I always find myself doing things I shouldn’t be doing for you. Prioritizing you over anything and everyone else, and finding joy in doing so. I hide little smiles when took notice of what I did, and secretly add a little more effort whenever you are not looking.
Because every time I do something for you then, I saw you differently. You were the perfect personification of what my mind has set to do for someone I love. You became the perfect portrayal of what the perfect relationship what I have in mind.
But seeing you differently became something different. I was becoming different that I have to stop, take a step back and see things from the side lines for a while.
And here’s what I came up with: I saw you differently but I was unable to see that I was becoming different to myself. I became too absorbed to the idea of you being different—equally labelling you as the perfect one when reality you weren’t even as close to that. I made you the perfect epitome of all that I wanted, making myself drown because of it. I failed to recognize that you cannot be the perfect one the same way I wanted us to be the pair I have in my mind.
With a cleared mind from the breath of fresh air, I realized that I have to be over this. I have to be over looking at you when all you ever did was turn you back on me; I should stop listening to you when all you ever talk about is her and naught else; I should stop doing things for you so I can be able to do things for myself. I have over looking at you differently— to stop holding my pee and avoid biases.
It is time to move on. It is time to see you back to the same old you; to go back to the same old me. I want to move on. But do I really need to move on when all along, I wasn’t even in love with you?