You really wanna know why I always show discomfort when we talk about her, yes, about you?
You guys just can't seem to get the point that I DON'T LIKE TALKING ABOUT IT. But still, as one of my closest friends, how can I blame you? You're just concerned.
Sorry about that. Brief outburst.
Yes, it started off as one way traffic, but then you've seem to have turned your head. And for once, I felt accepted by someone else who was more than a friend. For once, I felt truly happy for my personal life. And it seemed genuine for a while that you felt the same, that we have some connection that was intangible, yet highly valued. In that moment, I felt not romance, but real attraction. I may be too young to say such things, but that was indeed how I've felt.
You began to tell me your stories, and I shared my fair half. The best part was that I understood you, that beneath that radiance of confidence you had, you and I were similar in some degree: unsure, insecure, in need of a supportive figure.
I obliged, but you didn't return the favor. I told my stories, you criticized me for them. Instead of patronizing, you did the opposite. It wasn't constructive nor helpful, but I kept my mouth shut. I was happy enough. Still, that was just part and parcel of a relationship, I thought. Overnight, we made up for our scuffles.
Then it came the time where I literally placed my body on the line for you. Although I suffered a Grade One ankle sprain, I still took the 20-minute walk to your house just to surprise you, but you weren't free. You didn't even bother to take that few steps to exit the house. Sure I was on painkillers, but that was just temporary. I endured and almost ran through the pain barrier with you for that marathon, staying by your side the entire time, slowing down when I was too fast for you, looking out for any threat to protect you from. And the day that we embraced, that one sensation was all I've needed to make me happy. But that was the last day that I was about us.
I placed everything on the line for that relationship. I even considered breaking my own principles for you: to abandon Buddhism. I'm not proud of that thought. Although I'm not the best Buddhist, its culture IS my identity. The thought of leaving my identity behind for a gamble of a chance, is not a very proud one.
Then a few months passed, and the cracks started showing. You learned that we share less commonality than we once believed to have had. And you tried to brush me aside. You ignored me at times, and began to speak in harsh tones, sometimes even rudely. I knew what was happening. I just didn't want to face it.
We had our first argument in school, and it wasn't good. You won, but only because I didn't put up any resistance: it'll just make it worse. So you took more drastic steps, and just overnight, everything changed. You didn't say a word, you completely ignored me, and my voice was left unheard, whether you did hear it or not. I tried to salvage what I could, my friends helped me as well. But you've decided. And soon, I threw in the towel too.
So what is it that makes me sad whenever you're mentioned? It is that you never gave me the chance to work things out, that we, weren't giving it our all, that there is still one stone unturned, that we didn't not fully weigh all our options, that the finished article may just have been fabricated. Well, maybe you didn't give it your all. I did. And lost something in return.
So that, is essentially my black rose. And that's why I can't fully trust my judgement anymore. That I'm broken, and I'm still recovering. But you seem fine, like it's never happened. Well then, good for you. I'll be happy for that small piece of news.
Sleepwalker - The Wallflowers
