"You know I never loved anyone as much as I loved you. I never believed I would be capable of loving someone, but as they say, life is unpredictable. Slowly, I fell in love with you. My selfishness, my wishful thoughts—maybe at some point you’d also feel my share of love and reciprocate my feelings. I built up my courage and told you how I felt. But your reasons—they sounded like excuses. You could’ve just rejected me, said you didn’t feel the same, but no—you had to add more to it, didn’t you? I keep trying to move past these feelings, burying them deep, lying to myself that I don’t love you.
But every time you talk about someone else in front of me, I get jealous. I swallow it, keep quiet. I tell myself, 'I’m strong, this is nothing,' pretending I’m okay. Yet I’m not. I’m doing this damage to myself, and I wish I could stop, but I can’t. I’m past my limit. I’m twelve feet deep, and with each faint breath, I feel suffocated down here. But I have to accept—you will never be the one to become my other half. I wish I could just forget about you someday and never look back. Still, I find myself clinging to the last bit of hope that maybe you’ll turn around and run towards me."
Raymond’s voice cracked as tears streamed down his face. He stood there, vulnerable, waiting for a response, any sign of acknowledgment.
But Amenda didn’t utter a single word. She simply walked past him, her face unreadable, as if nothing had happened at all.
For a long moment, Raymond watched her figure disappear into the distance, his heart breaking with every step she took away from him. This time, he told himself he had to let her go. There was no point in clinging to something that would never be. He decided, with the last bit of strength left in him, that he would try his hardest to move on and never come back to this place of pain.
But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Sometimes, things are never meant to be, no matter how much you wish otherwise. People often make the mistake of picking the wrong person, the wrong place, or the wrong time. It hurts to the point where the pain becomes unbearable, and you find yourself feeling emotionally numb. And in the aftermath, you begin to wonder—was it your fault for allowing it to happen? Was it your own doing? If you had the choice, wouldn’t you have stopped yourself before even starting? But love never gives you that choice. It pulls you in, and when it’s gone, it leaves you hollow, a shadow of who you once were."
Raymond wiped the tears from his face. No more. He wouldn’t chase after something that was never his to begin with. As painful as it was, he would try to reclaim himself from the wreckage, one day at a time.
