There.

I never knew what it was that held us together, the promises hung negligently on the corner of your lips, or the fake smiles that we use to hide the pain and resentment we're both so full of? We try so hard to walk together in hopes of reliving those wonderful moments that once were so real. I guess what's left is too broken to be fixed. Maybe it's not meant to be fixed anyways.

I hung on so tightly with everything I have, every fiber of my being, and for what? It feels like I've been hanging on for so long that I forgot how to do anything else. My fingers became incapable of letting loose.

I guess I'll just have to teach myself. Little steps.

I will get there. But where, exactly, is there?

Chỉ nghe tim nức nở...

Hai năm, ru đời nhau bằng những câu nói và tiếng cười. Cũng hai năm, xâu xé nhau bằng những nỗi đau trong im lặng. Thật sự thì cũng không biết cái gì đã trói buộc hai đứa lại với nhau, những lời hứa treo hờ nơi khoé môi, hay là những nụ cười giã tạo để che dấu những đau xót nơi đáy lòng? Tự hỏi hai đứa đã đem đến nhau được những gì ngoài những tiếng nấc ngẹn ngào và những sự dày vò mỏi mệt. Mình ráng đi bên đời nhau mong tìm lại được ngày xưa khi chưa có hoài nghi, khi cảm giác lúc bên nhau còn là những niềm vui thật sự.

Buổi chiều rũ xuống trên công viên, nơi hai đứa đã từng đi qua, nơi chứa đậy biết bao nhiêu là kĩ niệm, bao nhiêu nụ cười và giọt nước mắt. Con nắng nhỏ lần bị giấu đi trong khoảng trời đầy mây. Thấy mất đi một chút gì đó rất quen thuộc, một chút gì đó từ lâu không còn là của mình. Ừh, có lẽ đến lúc mình phải đi. Quay lưng, chợt nghe tim nức nở...

October 11th, 1:37am

The worst thing, I think, about loving you is that I can’t stop; and I don’t think I ever will. I could, and probably will, fall in love again with someone else, but that still doesn’t mean I would stop loving you. Sometimes, I kind of like the fact that I love you. I like thinking about you as soon as I wake up with the sunlight and right before I fall asleep with the moonlight. It has always been you, faithfully you.

I guess it is okay that you don’t love me back. I feel like the most important lesson one needs to learn about love is that you love someone not because they love you back, but you should love someone just simply because you love that person, and everything about them—everything that’s perfect and everything that’s fucked up. Love shouldn’t be demanding or doubting, but instead willing and unconditional.

When it comes to you, I have loved; I have cried, countlessly and with no regrets. In all honestly, I feel like I haven’t been able to really do anything for you. What I feel only matters to me. Looking back, it seems like you have done more for me, a lot more, than I did for you. You have helped me come to accept myself for who I am. You taught me that sometimes, it is better to let go than to have false hopes. You were there with me, telling each other secrets that had never been told before. You walked with me when I was scared and then showed me that I could do it myself. You explained to me, patiently, about who you are and how you think—selfishly; and even though I listened, I chose not to believe; and just would keep on being patient with me. I pushed you, but instead of pushing back, you walked away because you didn’t want to hurt me. You always close the shutters before going to bed, even when you don’t sleep here, because you know I can’t sleep with them opened.

I always called you selfish, but I guess I’m the selfish one.

You always noticed it when I cried myself to sleep, despite how hard I tried to hide it. You would ask me, “what’s wrong?” And I would always answer,”nothing.”

“But you’re crying…”

“I’ll be okay. Good night.”

“Night.”

But we both knew exactly what was wrong.