Ever since I was little, I believed everyone to be capable of love; sharing, feeling, expressing emotions of love. Well, it wouldn't be such a huge plot twist when I say I don't believe that anymore. When you grow up, love, slowly but surely, loses its shining, shimmering hue. You simply stop believing in it. Or that's what I thought.
I find myself desperately clinging unto any sign of reciprocated feelings coming my way. The need of feeling appreciated and wanting those naive dreams and notions of love to be true is overwhelming.
However, there's another me inside me, who tells me I am not deserving of any kind of love. Others might be worthy of experiencing the childhood dreams of love, but it is something that would never be in my reach.
The urge to love is powerful, but there is an equally powerful source that makes me do anything in my might to destroy what little love I have.
So, when I told you good-bye, I never meant it. I wasn't screaming for you to see through my lies and refuse my attempts to leave you, I was begging you to save me from myself. Before I could stop myself, I had already cut all ties I had to you, erasing you from my life in a matter of seconds during a time when I would have needed you the most.
I'm back to where I was a year ago, and I miss the days coloured by your words. You were my biggest source of support and I am a fool for being broken. The worst part is not how quickly I let you go - it's how I probably made you feel worthless, and how I made you feel like the long time we spent together meant nothing to me. I had so many months on me to tell you how important you were to me, but the fact that you never tried to contact me again afterwards is enough evidence of my complete failure.
...
I hate my guts, my ambiguity, my anxiety; I hate how I can make decisions I am not sure of, and which I'll end up regretting in the end.
I regret having met you at all and curse you for showing me something real; I regret being the kind of person I am, knowing I'll never stop disappointing myself; I regret being such a despicable person; I regret revealing so much about myself to someone who I would be throwing away in the end, anyway.
Maybe I really am my own worst enemy. I do deserve this loneliness.
...
As with everything in life, this, too, will disappear in the vast nooks and corners of time. Life is but a fleeting moment, and as any human being I am just grasping for seconds.
This, too, will pass.
きっと.
