Just yesterday I was having a hard crush to probably the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in this life. I couldn't keep my eyes off Allie. It's too early to say but I think he's definitely gonna be the death of me.
Earlier when I was checking my Facebook to clean some contents I no longer needed, I stumbled upon a profile picture taken by Shawn. It was when we celebrated the Valentine's in '24 together. On that post he left a comment and despite knowing I should not do what I was about to do, I did it anyway. I checked his profile and saw how happy he was. I refused to believe before that he already moved on that same day he let me go. But it all seemed true to me now.
It hurt me, again.
I have told my friends he no longer affects me. Guess I was wrong.
I have gone so far to be crumbling like this again. I never would have thought a single person could make me feel so much.
He rarely haunts me now. But when he does, it makes me want to kill myself. I see myself as the same person months ago crying and grieving so much for what we lost– us. I couldn't fathom how deep the pain of losing someone alive was. I look at the abyss and its colossal depth and it did not have to invite me as I would throw myself in it.
I have come a long way since the separation not because I wanted to live. I was struggling whether to keep living or end it all. Had my mom not told me about burning in hell for eternity for putting an end to my future, I would have done so a week after he left.
Unstable as I am, I am no fool. Not to that extent. I have already suffered so much while alive. Why would I want to suffer in hell too?
It's hard to be suicidal and Catholic and a coward all in the same time. But I keep hoping for the better day. I hope it finally comes. I hope it is Allie.
YOU ARE READING
Twenty-Five Going Forty
Non-FictionThe author, although just 25, wishes to only live tell forty should the circumstances not turn in his favor. That's it.
