Lost of Feelings

He walked like the morning breeze.

               Dark-haired, slow-paced, tall, unlikely to speak. That’s him, my love.

               Except he isn’t mine.

               Let me get this right: he was mine. Truly mine. He gave me those lover looks, those hugs, those texts that got me blushed after reading them.

               Except I asked for them. He never thought of doing them himself.

               So our story started like this: it started with a girl, so hopeless in life that she wondered if everything would be better by dating someone attractive. Her definition of attractive didn’t include personality, in fact, she just wanted to experience infatuation. She wondered what would happen if she just went for a boy whom she didn’t know much about. Perhaps he could be her true love - who knew at that time? Curiosity haunted all of us, no matter how prepared we thought we were.

               Well, the boy, surprisingly, did find her somewhat entertaining. On Valentine’s, they went out, had lunch, and enjoyed the time without pushing to the future. Nothing seemed to matter except for the sparkles they created among each other. However, sparkles are not fire. They do not continue to flicker. The girl tried so hard to keep the relationship up. She put in so much effort while the boy only accepted love and didn’t give back affection. She never imagined herself to be so involved in this relationship, because when she wanted this relationship, she was also dealing with mental issues she had with school and her family that caused her to become fragile. The relationship was only a source of happiness she wished to use when she needed it. She just needed a shoulder to lean on. She never expected herself to fall in love so deeply. It was no longer infatuation, it was a valued love. As time went on, her feelings grew stronger and stronger. They were so strong that they broke her into pieces late at night when she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

That girl, me, fell apart today.

               I texted you, saying we need to talk. You agreed. Tuesday, 1 p.m., library, fourth-floor children’s room. I was an hour early on purpose because I knew I had to fight the butterflies in me before I could talk to you. I sat down on one of the sofas and texted you I’m here early, come up to the fourth floor whenever you are here. You replied immediately, which gave me some sort of comfort. I’m close. I took out my AP chemistry textbook. I never meant to do the practice problems. I only needed the book to calm myself down, to have something to look at while being with you because I knew if I looked into your eyes, I would no longer see the sparkles I used to see that caught me on fire inside my guts. I didn’t want to burn myself because somehow I knew you were no longer the ocean waves that calmed me down. 

               After checking my phone multiple times, you appeared in front of me. You started with the hey your voice liked to play. I looked up, thinking to myself that the shirt looked good on you. I made you sit down next to me, and I didn’t dare to take out the piece of paper I used to write a list of things I needed to say. I talked to you about your life recently, and you caught up on mine.

               Then I asked, do you actually like me? Shocked, you were. What made you think that? You asked the same question when I asked you whether or not you were mad at me last week. Well, I’m an overthinker. But sometimes I just think you didn’t know how to reject me in the first place. I was, indeed, sincere. Although I already had an answer: no, tell me I’m also your true love. Tell me you do feel something when we hugged and texted I love you.

               Yet you proved my intrusive thoughts were right.

               I couldn’t remember the exact words you said, perhaps it was too painful for me to remember. I wanted to collapse. In the room full of children, I was one of them. I was a kid who wanted love from someone who never looked at me the same. I was so naive to think I could turn you into what I wanted.

               So, what do you want to do about this? By this, I meant our relationship. I think we should take a break from it. You said. A break. No. What you meant was we should both throw this relationship away. Okay. I shrugged, pretending that I didn’t mind. You’re a good person, you really are. You looked at me in the eyes as if you truly meant it. Perhaps you did mean it.

               We sat there in silence because you were also too awkward to talk. Eventually, I asked about robotics, your favorite thing that always hooked you up into a long conversation. You said that you were going to have a robotics meeting today, but you chose to talk to me instead. Your team manager wasn’t happy about it, but for me, you had to come. You wanted me to feel special and taken care of. It was the last bit of your kindness.

               You should go. I said, not knowing what was left on my mind but you. You asked carefully if that was okay, but I insisted that you shall leave. Part of the reason was that I didn’t know when I would fall apart. I didn’t want to do that in front of you. I didn’t want you to feel bad about us and force yourself to show whatever you didn’t have for me.

               I looked down again at my AP chemistry textbook before you could say anything first, Just leave, they need you. What didn’t slip out of my mouth was: I need you, too. Choose me, stay with me longer so I can still experience your tenderness without letting you go too far away. You never got my hints, and I should know that by now.

               You left, you said see you soon.

               I secretly hoped the next time you saw me you would regret your decision of breaking up with me. However, I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

               I lifted my head for a second look, and you were walking towards the staircase.

               You still walked like the morning breeze.

They said never to fall in love with a clueless boy. However, I didn’t listen. I thought I was ready to change someone with a heart that didn’t belong to me. I was overestimating myself, and the realization hurt. It hurt so much, so badly. It felt like morning turning into night and eventually, there was only me and myself, standing under the starry night with nobody’s arm to hook on.

               I don’t think I’ll be able to forget about you. I’m already too used to lying to myself and please don’t let my lies trick you, too. If I ever say I moved on, I’m not moving on. That is a game I like to play with myself. I like to pretend everything is okay and there are many people out there for me, even though they’re blurred out when you are around.

               I know so much was on your mind and I just won’t be one of them. This is a choice. You choose not to adore me, and not to make time out of your life for me. Perhaps I’m not worth it, but I must let you know that I’m the girl who thinks about you constantly. I refused to drop tears when you didn’t treat me the same because I believed, I actually believed that you loved me as much as I do, and you were just too shy to admit it. You were just horrible at showing your love.

But no, after all, I’m not your priority. You said I am a good person, you said so, and you said it multiple times without even blinking. How bad of a person are you? How could you say that to a girl so vulnerable like me who expected you to love me the way I love you? If I am not good enough for you, then I’m not a good person.

               I remember I stopped listening to sad-tuned classical music when we first dated, and now, my playlist is on again. I remember I stopped thinking about my issues for a while and now they’re all back in my mind again. This is because the space they took up was replaced by you, and now you have moved out, they’re back in. Worse, now you are another issue of mine.

               I hate how I started realizing how deeply I am into you until we broke up.