Tag: Love Story

watercolor_eagle_by_eyvindwolf-d67o5fs

Us in Colors

Brown,
was boring day at school.

Orange,
was clumsy bumps in the hallway.

Yellow,
was trading pranks and knowing you.

Green,
was nothing but comfort.

Pink,
was to my blushing cheeks.

Red,
was end-game promise shared.

Blue,
was when we spoke of future.

Purple,
was ugly bad sign of an end.

Gray,
was when tears of misery was spilled.

Black,
was when we said goodbye.

White,
was to a new beginning.

In response to: Colorful

goodbye_will_continue_alone_2560_1600_yesss_thanks_desktop_2560x1600_hd-wallpaper-1167480

What Could Have Been Is Bunch of Crap

You’ve come into possession of one vial of truth serum. Who would you give it to (with the person’s consent, of course) — and what questions would you ask?

Everyone must have had a first love, no matter how old they are.

Your first love can be the first boy your heart ever skips a beat for in that elementary school, but it can also be the person that made you truly understand what love means at all for the first time.

I have one too, and I can imagine sitting in a small cafe with him. I can imagine handing him the truth serum and seeing him gulp them down. I can imagine myself contemplating on questions to ask him as flashback comes, reminding me of all the things that could have happened.

But still, the first question would probably be, “Did you ever love me?”

Then I would wait for an answer, and if he said yes, I would wait until the serum wears off before I start making a conversation. Then we’d talk. After years of never meeting each other, we’d talk about how things could have worked out, how subtle hints in the past was meant to be a special gesture, how those days spent together was supposed to grow into something more if only the two of us had the courage to say something.

Then we’d laugh over silly confessions that are already too outdated that it doesn’t matter anymore. We’d tell each other how much the other person meant for each of us in the past, and we’d talk about a story of what could have been.

But then we’d realize that it was too late, we both moved on, and it was great meeting each other again after all these years.

And if there is one thing I hate from a love story, it is a story that could have happened but didn’t, all because the universe was against it. So it goes to waste, and nothing remains except the bittersweet words of ‘what if’, ‘should have’, and ‘if only’.

couple-breakup

It Goes To Waste

When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep

It wasn’t the matter of not being able to sleep, it was more the thought of not being able to leave him alone. There were better things to attend to, there always were, such as homework and council work. There was also a phone call she was supposed to pick up, half a dozen massages she was supposed to write back to—and yet there she was, lying on her bed with earphones in her earbuds, waiting for a ring that she herself knew was wrong in many ways.

It rang, and she told herself she’d wait until the fourth or fifth ring, make him wait, she didn’t want to come off too eager.

What a joke.

The moment it rang, she picked it up immediately and spoke as softly as any other night, “Hello?”

Her exhaustion vanished in an instant as the corners of her lips twitched into a smile.

And the tears come streaming down your face

She knew her feelings for that kind neighbor and his feeling for her would be a lost cause, and maybe that was why she cried into her pillow late that night, because she was such a horrible person for letting things went too far.

She craved for love, and to love is to choose to love, but it was impossible to avoid the inevitable—she was never in love. She was struggling, people were judging, and she needed someone to tell her it was okay. He seemed like the easiest choice, and things were exactly the way she wanted them to be.

For a while, things were cotton candy sweet.

And then everything love crashed together. Four men, one she rejected, one she avoided, one she was supposed to be happy with, and one she actually loved. She wiped her tears and shrugged the pain away. She should kiss the neighbor goodbye, it wasn’t fair for him when her heart didn’t sing the way his did. It wasn’t fair for him when she avoided his phone call in the favor for others. It wasn’t fair for him when she could only give so much.

She was all he wanted, he said.

She bit her lip. How does one tell someone he’s not who she wanted without breaking his heart?

Oh, yeah.

They don’t.

When you love someone but it goes to waste

She stared at the sight in front of her.

His eyes seemed content, in peace, as he whispered lovely things to this new girl he wanted. That guy was the reason she kept breaking her neighbor’s heart into pieces. That guy was the reason phone calls went unanswered and texts went ignored.

You’re the one I want, he said on occasions during their deep conversation in empty rooms.

The same words were also said from her neighbor, and yet it gave different impacts. He was the fuckboy, she was the goody two shoes. She did her works and assignments, he was the troublemaker who smoked and drank all he wanted.

She loved him, and she told him exactly that.

So what kept them from being together?

She told him she didn’t see a forever with him, and he told her he saw it, just not now, not when he was still like this. She told him to chase others, as heartbreaking it might be for her. He took it to heart, and he did as she said. She had to see him laugh and share moments with girls she’d never approve, and she preferred things to be that way.

It broke her heart still, and there were times when she wanted to cry for it. It was funny how two could love but not be together. She smiled anyway, because as she told him, she wanted him to be loved. So she watched as he sang love songs to his girl. The words he sang to her, she sang it to him. Sometimes their eyes would meet and she’d see the hurt in her eyes reflect inside his dark brown irises, but that was only how far she was willing to go with him, so she swallowed the pain and sucked it up.

At the end of the day, she was the one he called at night and the one he loved—or at least that’s what she wanted to believe.

At school they’re friends, at night they’re cursed lovers, and by morning, deep conversations were placed in a memory box as they slip back into their masks. No one needed to know how far they went with feelings and love, no one needed to know the way she gazed when he laughed with his girl, and no one needed to know about the love—as untrue as it might be—that he harbored for her, despite going out with different girl.

They could have it all if she was willing to sell her soul for the darkness anchoring inside him, and that was where it had to end. She could be his friend, sister, partner, everything but his.

“Have you ever felt so in love and realize you can’t have it all?” she asked him one night. “These are all bunch of loves that you can’t do anything about. It sucks.”

Pause.

“Do you remember your background photo on mine?” he asked back instead.

She paused then.

“Photo of us?” She raised her eyebrow.

He nodded, “I miss that full smile from the girl standing next to me in that pink dress. It doesn’t feel like the same anymore.”

She remembered being happier. She remembered not having to wish things were different.

She laughed humorlessly. “Heartache changes people, I guess.

“Someone should try to fix it,” he responded. “I tried, apparently it’s not good enough.”

But she wasn’t the one needed to be fixed, didn’t he understand? He was the one supposed to be fixed, he was the one supposed to be guided into the light

“I guess not,” she agreed. She took a breath. “There’s always going to be someone else for people like us. Someone else for you, someone else for me. We’re just never meant to be, and it was stupid of me for being too in love to let things go.”

If he wanted to say anything else after that, she wouldn’t know. She left him to his thoughts and didn’t give him the chance to speak.

The next morning, they spoke empty words. At night, he was laughing with his girl.

The morning after that, she decided it hurt real bad, and it was good to see that he didn’t seem to care.

It was better that way, for wasted love was an unspeakable crime.

When you lose something you cannot replace.

98ffa89e791fc42199ca3de5c2b6b4b9

Protected: Not A Someday

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén