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❝ I'M NOT EVEN HALF AS PRETTY! ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎ THERE WERE MULTIPLE occasions in my life where I'd momentarily feel my heart stop beating, which meant that something bad has happened and I witnessed it. Mother told me that it can be fear, pain, disappointment, or any other negative emotion associated with the outcome of an action done by another person.
The first time I felt this was when I was a child, seeing my father take his own life right before my eyes. From that day onwards, it was a recurring feeling that would frequently alert me that something bad was or has happened, and usually I'm correct.
My heart had also stopped beating for a second the day Ryuhei left me, my body felt so numb and I was vibrating, and I wasn't so sure why that was happening. I've long since buried the thought of begging him to stay in my life months ago, if he was happy with chasing the girl of his dreams then why would I stop him? Who am I to stop him from experiencing the happiness he deserves?
However, the most recent time I experienced my heart falter for a moment was something I was not expecting to happen, moreso than all the other times. My stomach churned uncontrollably and the feeling of needing to empty my stomach rose to an alarming rate.
In my hands were the test results given to me by the family doctor, he sighed while putting a hand on my shoulder comfortingly.
"I'm sorry, [M.Name]-san. We rerun the tests as much as we can but the results were always the same," he told me, sadness in his voice just as fear settled in my mind, "we already informed your mother about this and she said she's coming home from Vietnam as soon as possible."
My breath hitched in my throat as my mind went blank, the doctor's words ringing in my ear again and again.
"How long do I still have?" I whispered my question. The doctor visibly gulped and averted his gaze from me, removing his hand from my shoulder and lowering his head. "Approximately two years."
"Oh," I mumbled, for that was the only thing I could say as the doctor finally walked away, leaving me with my body shaking for whatever reason, my heart beating erratically in my chest as the papers fell from my hands.
Is two years enough for me to love him to my fullest?
Without even looking to where I was going, I let my feet lead me to one of the large grey sofas in the living room, sitting down and letting my head fall in my hands.
Is two years enough for me to make up to my mother?
Soon, I was surprised to feel blood dripping from my nose. At first it was just the tiniest drops, like a faucet left open by a millimeter. Then suddenly, blood started to pour out more, some of it getting inside of my mouth. The bitter, salty taste of my own blood made me feel so weak, but I didn't have anyone with me now to ask for help. I was alone and suffering, and that's how it'll be until the rest of my days.
Is two years enough for me to finally feel the love I deserve?
Perhaps not, because love takes time, and the love I deserve might not come until decades later, when I'm gone and my bones lay beneath the soil, my flesh have long been gone as the maggots and worms in my coffin squirm happily with their stomachs full. I could only be loved once I'm dead.
Is two years enough for me?
Of course it wasn't, but I'll live my life to the fullest in those two years. I want to see the beauty of the world before I leave it, and I want to let my mother know that I never despised her. A mother's love is different after all.
Is two years enough for him?
.
.
.
He wouldn't even care.
He never will. Not after meeting the love of his life.
I was never his soulmate, I was just a placeholder.
