A Crazy Kind of Love

Storming inside the room, I wipe my tears. The sobs I'm trying to suppress escaped. I could not stop myself from crying. I never intended to stop, anyway.

Five months.

He easily threw away those five months we've spent together by just barging inside the door a while ago and said with a smile, "Leave."

The smile I was flashing him widened even more. "Why, love? You want to prepare a surprise for me?" I asked, giggling.

He strutted in the living room and settled himself on the sofa. He looked up and flashed me one of those dazzling smiles I loved about him, "Just leave, love."

I noticed how the last word held something more. I frowned. What's wrong with him?

I started to walk towards him. I placed my hand on his cheeks while he's looking at me. "What's wrong, love? Why are you like that? What happened?"

I gave him one of my worried stares, thinking he just had a bad day. He was smiling, but I know those smiles were for pretense. And the words he uttered held more emphasis than necessary.

He held my hand, and gently pushed it back. "Keep your hands off me, Sam. You'd better want to get used to not touching me anymore."

Stunned, I wasn't able to mutter a word for a while.

When I saw him smirk, I felt my voice return. "What do you mean, Troy? Why are you like this? What happened?"

My insides were starting to feel shaky, as if feeling the blow that it was expecting to happen anytime soon.

"I just realized something," he said without much care. My lips started to quiver. It was as if my mind already knows what's about to happen so it's sending signals all over my body.

"Troy?" I said, my eyes trying to get blurry with tears.

I can feel it.

He was starting to slip away.

That is, if he still has not.

"I'm tired of you. I don't like being with you anymore."

I felt a tear fell on my left cheek. Shaking, I started to back away and sat on the opposite chair of where he was sitting.

"But... that's not a good enough reason, love." I tried to say. I know how this will go. I've known in one way or another that this will also end because of that same reason... mainly because I already experienced a handful of them.

The people I love... they always get tired of me, don't they?

"Isn't it enough? I don't like your presence anymore. I don't like your touch. Your voice. I don't want to hear them on the same room as me. I don't want to see your face, too. Things have changed, Samira." He paused and seemed to think for a while. "Oh. Now that I've analyzed it, I never really liked any of it, any of your being. I guess... I just put up with it for those five months. Wow! I'm such a patient man." He said, chuckling to himself.

It hurts. Those words hurt. I don't actually bother to hide my pain. I was never one to pretend. I was an open book my entire life.

"Well, I think you really should finish crying over that inside your room. Oh, I forgot. It's not your room. It's mine. So if you could just finish crying there and pack your things, the sooner you'll be out of my life, the better." He casually said. "I'll be in the kitchen, will just heat something up."

He got up from the seat and started to walk.

I tried to control myself and sniffed. My feelings don't come first, he comes first.