Chapter 84
Monday
I accidentally bumped into him. I immediately looked down to avoid his eyes because I couldn't stand staring at them without shattering myself. Unfortunately, he noticed their redness. He asked if I was okay. I didn't reply. I pushed him away. He pulled my wrist and I felt his heartbeat. I didn't hear my name.
Tuesday
I bought something to eat from the 11th floor, and life is really good in humoring me. I got stuck for good, twenty seconds with him on the elevator. I didn't speak. I just stared at the coffee I bought from one of the stalls. When I got out, he called my name. I heard it. It didn't sound any special anymore. It hurt me, big time. I didn't turn around and swallowed my pride.
Wednesday
My friends and I fought about the issue. I yelled at them and I was so mad that they didn't tell me that he was there when I was sick. They didn't tell me that he came for me. They didn't tell me that he was there with me during my hardest battle. I asked Mitch why she didn't tell me that Cyrus was really there. Fuming mad, she replied, "Why didn't you have the courage to ask if what you thought was right? Why didn't you brave those questions inside your head? Why were you so scared to know if he really did stay? Why were you so afraid to know that he still stood by your side even if you wanted him gone? You were so scared for the answers, but you couldn't even get yourself to ask the questions. It's a battle we couldn't fight on your behalf. That moment, you just had to ask, but you never did. You could have written him a better ending, but you chose to put some stupid ellipsis, instead. And you left it just like that. Unfinished, you closed the book. The continuation now lies inside your head and it will always hurt you because no matter how regretful you are, those what if's and what could have been's are already too late to be written back."
Her eyes were filled with sympathy and disappointment combined. One last grip at Nick's arm and I fell on my knees.
They all panicked and had to bring me my medicines. Yep, I'm already taking some pills to keep up with my health since the day I got hospitalized.
It's becoming more dangerous for me. He is not healthy for my own good. Because loving him is already killing me. It doesn't feel safe anymore. It's no longer warm in the inside. It rather burns me alive. And love isn't supposed to be this consuming. Love is supposed to fill you with so much good, and not with all these demons with voices that whisper things too painful to hear about.
It has been days, and we haven't properly talked yet. I'm desperate for his voice. But does it really matter? I've already lost him. What else is left for me? Will me wanting him make him be here and perhaps, be mine again?
I tried to convince myself that he was a mistake. But everytime I try to, my heart would contravene and remind me that he was probably the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Thursday
I went home early to write him letters.
Writing someone letters is one of the greatest forms of self-annihilation because you let yourself bleed feelings in the form of words. And you shouldn't let anyone have the power to hostage your thoughts and heart just like that. But I still found myself bleeding him poetry. How ironic.
However, he will never know because I will never let him read them. I will never let him know that he still has the power to break me.
After reading what I wrote, I cried and held my chest. It felt like someone slashed my heart in the middle.
Friday
I haven't gotten any proper sleep yet. All night, I was hearing his voice. I see him everywhere I go.
