stop.

Talk About

We could talk about anything – everything.

School, food, shows we watched last week, comics, new upcoming movies, celebrities, what we had for dinner last night, reasons for procrastinating, what made us stay up too late, what happened on the news, the latest episode of a show we're currently into, the new teacher, the kids from the other block,

how the stars and moon shine bright, predicting the possible rain from the dark clouds, regrets on leaving behind an umbrella, why the sky is blue, how windy it is in the late spring, how your dog barks at anyone,

the shenanigans our friends did, about how talkative the announcer is at our morning assembly, how badly you want to sleep at class, how you would come up to me to teach you the simple math equation, how I would tell you to lower your voice, how I would scold you not to mix random drinks together and drink it, how we will tell classic jokes,

talk about dismissal, the way you whine as I pull you to the nearby store, speaking between sentences cause we were too busy chewing hamburgers, imagining the day we will be separated, how you will comfort me, telling me I will be okay without you, planning the next rendezvous,

meeting then again, how I would rant on how horrible the people I met there, how you would comfort me, how I will mumble as I lean on your shoulder, telling me it's alright,

when we will meet up again, catching up with each other's lives, how I would try to tell you how ridiculous haircuts are without laughing too much, the book I was currently reading, begging me to let you read my works, the new album your favorite band released after the long hiatus,

what you plan on doing for college, how busy we've been,

how we would tell each other to plan it out, on how to make it work...

But then, I am with you now, but you would tell me how clammy my hands are; then you will compare me to her, your words made me vulnerable,

then unexpectedly confessing to me, how you love me,

how much you love me,

our arguments, the growing tension between us, me complaining how irritating and exhausting it has been, apologizing, forgiveness,

hurting me again, your desperate pleads, forgiving you,

giving you a chance, being reckless, me running away,

another chance wasted,

apologizing, talking again, then your senseless stories, resented explanations, our broken promises and your stupidity.

It all went downhill as that damned love you served came sprouting out.

And Alas! – We came here.

We used to talk about anything; everything.

But now, all you care to talk about is me, me and yourself.

There's one thing I haven't talked to you about – that if things ever got out of hand like this — how I cruel I could be to leave without saying goodbye.