The child in me wanted to question everything.
Did you not sleep enough that day? Were your friends suggesting this act? Was I the culprit to the bridge, that we spent dark mornings and sunny nights building, collapsing?
My fury towards you came in bouts of sadness and confusion. The voice in my head wanted to retaliate and throw it away and wipe my memory clean, just as you made it seem like you were doing the same.
The hurt still comes in waves. The shocks and nausea I put my body through, unwillingly recollecting all the dismay, is enough to make me drop dead. At times, I wish I could crawl into my brain, and shut off the switch designated with your name on it.
You disappointed me. You stunned me, but it doesn’t make me love you any less.
You taught me how beautiful things don’t have to stop being beautiful just because they ended tragically or dramatically. Through you, I realized how I can never regret the time we spent together.
We both grew — together, and as people. We gave each other sunlight when we got stuck hiding, and watered our roots so we never faded away.
You can’t just un-love someone just because of a falling out, especially when they’ve offered you all they have. It happens. Life happens. People change or people want to change, and it’s not something we can hold against them.
We can’t wave a donut in front of their face hoping they’ll chase what you thought they initially desired. Sometimes, you need to just have faith, and trust in that it will lead you to whatever is necessary.
I don’t know what it is about you. I don’t know if it’s the excitement in your face I see when you help someone. I don’t know if it’s the way you walk.
All I know is the stars aligned too well for us, yet I’m forever grateful for the constellation it proposed the night we intercepted.