you will be okay, I promise

I genuinely thought it was the one. Or, a change of words. I thought it was genuine. 

For some people, it was the thrill of a rollercoaster. For me it wasn't. It held me for this long because it was calm and unrushed. I got too comfortable with those hugs, and I forgot how to live without having one. Letting my guard down so you could read me. Instead, you saw it —the chance to walk around as if you already won the trophy. So, I followed you everywhere. Your crumbs were all over me, and I was glad for it, once. Until the realization came that I was probably didn't sit on your priority list. 

I didn't want to care about it, though, really. But a part of me wants to be known. Hoping that I would get at least a drop of something that I've given. I didn't get it. And you weren't aware of it.

I started writing long paragraphs about how I wanted to be treated. To the point where I started to feel like I was asking for too much. Probably I am —too much to handle. I probably am, not worth the effort. It went from the only thing that makes me feel more alive, to the only thing that keeps me dying. You were there. You were told about it, too. But you still let that happen. 

You have tried, I know. But I have tried, too. 

We have tried hard enough.

Everything felt somehow dead all of a sudden. You live that way, and I live this way. Again, I realized it and you didn't. This time, the grip gets harder. We tried to hold on, but forgot to understand each other. And instead of growing stronger, it's slipping away for hurts. 

It hurts. I couldn't even listen to our playlist anymore. I couldn't listen to the songs of our favorite singer anymore. And I couldn't enjoy beaches the same way anymore. 

Our love was weird. It was weird to have held someone close to you for years, only to neglect the things that only you know how to fulfill. It makes me question: Did you really want to be with me, or just enjoy my company? Or am I giving new details, or just simply filling the emptiness? Not much different, though. But it hits hard. And I think it's easy to see whether or not you are someone's choice —someone's person.

So, I learnt a lot. I probably didn't realize it, but I've dug in too deep and almost buried myself alive. It hits the point where I feel "less" without you. It should be the other way around. I should have felt more "whole" with you. But this relationship is flawed, so I couldn't see love. Almost felt like it was forced. Correct this and correct that. Going ahead, neglecting each other's needs. As if love needs both parties dying to keep it alive, while in fact, it should be the easiest.

Sadly, you never start a conversation about it. It had to be me. And now I am the bad guy.

It wasn't your fault, either. It was in my head all along. I romanticized everything. Hoping you would see all the pages I've written about you. Hoping you would notice that I wrote down the details of every date we had. Hoping you would realize that I did all of this because that is how I wanted to be treated, too. 

I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be special. It doesn't have to be grand gestures. A gentle pat on my head would work too. Or just simply sit with me in silence. No work, no phone, just us versus the problems. 

We used to figure it out together, didn't we? Look at us now. Couldn't even sit without something on the table. There was always an issue. That same damn issue we couldn't solve. I am tired, don't you?

I think that was where we failed. Not once, but we let it slide for a hundred times for years. I thought you would learn about me, too, one day. But I guess this home was too quiet all along; it felt like nobody was home.

It was a combination of feeling neglected, ignored, and being left alone. I probably looked like I could bear that, too. So, you did that every chance you had, without realizing. And I have run out of energy to explain —to beg. I am tired and ashamed enough to beg. I let it all happen. Everything slid the way you wanted to. Now I am hearing no sound, not even a little bit. I finally accept that maybe this love was too heavy on one side. Maybe it was only me who wanted it to be fixed, to be better. Maybe it had always had to be me to start any kind of conversations —any kind of events. So, I get my hands off the steering wheel. I stopped expecting anything.

A bitter pill to swallow, indeed. That we actually loved each other so much. Probably a little too much, we ended up twisting each other's knives. So, we talked it through. Living in the age of adults, but we cried over the fact that this really had to end. Heavy. How do we convince ourselves that this is the safest way out? 

All these questions stuck in mid-call —remain unanswered. 

But it was a lovely ride, love. Loved you and learnt a lot. I hope you've learnt a lot from me, too. I lose us. I lose you. I promise, this life will still be fun, and you and I will be okay. Eventually. So, take care.