By Ayessa de la Pena | Candy Magazine ©
I want to go home and talk to my parents.
Ask them if they had their hearts broken so badly before that they almost gave up on love. Ask them for assurance that things are going to get better soon, that I can start eating like a starved pig again, that I won’t wake up in the wee hours of the morning in tears, that I will not want to be sound asleep every single time I’m awake just so I can stop remembering our moments together, that I’d stop asking God why I’m being punished to the ends of the world, that I can genuinely smile and laugh again.
Even some assurance from the ‘rents is not going to do it.
It’s not going to bandage the wound you’ve left behind, stop it from bleeding continuously, stop myself from tearing up every time I remember you, us.
Even some words of encouragement won’t take away the pain, the hurts, the heartbreak of losing you even before we began, of being left in the middle of the biggest fight I’ve fought my entire life, of just being left, period.
But I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things anymore, but I know these are all true: I love you. You love me, too.
But that wasn’t enough to make you stay, to make you want to give this a shot. It wasn’t enough to make us happen. We were almost there, but you gave up in the middle of the fight. We almost made it, but things got messy and you left me.
You took the easier way out and tried pleasing everyone except me, except you.
I still kept our last photograph together, the one our friend took before you said good bye and after you told me to give us up, after we cried and cried because we felt helpless and defeated. That’s the word we should be using to describe us, by the way. Defeated. We were smiling at the camera, standing side by side, looking like we wanted to hug each other, but we won’t and we can’t.
We were smiling, yes. We looked so happy, yes. But our eyes betray the smiles. Our eyes looked like the world had just turned its back on us, like the world had this plan to make us the unhappiest human beings alive at the moment, like the world has a conspiracy theory to bring us devastation or something.
We built a big world together, our own world, one where your cheeks and my forehead fit together perfectly.
But right now, that world feels so small and it’s slowly slipping away. We cannot do anything to keep it. We’re just two souls, lost in a world that’s not our own, walking around with defeated hearts, hoping that someday, one day, the world can bring us back together and be a little kinder to us.