Choices

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It was not because you did not choose me.

I did not get hurt because of that. Just the fact that you had to choose between me or her, meant I already lost. I was not supposed to be a choice, in the first place. I don't know what I was meant t to be in your life but surely, I did not deserve to be merely one of your choices. So I accepted that loss. I accepted that falling in love with you was ultimately, a defeat, either way. But I loved you enough to choose that. I loved you enough to choose my own downfall.

I chose you. I chose to stay with you. I chose to love you. And none of that is your fault. That was my own doing. And I refuse to feel victimized by my own decisions. I knew you were destruction the moment I got to know you and I still decided that you are worth my ruin because I believed that you are worth sacrificing everything for—including my sanity. I know that's a crazy thing to do but understand that I was madly in love with you. And humans tend to lose their natural instinct of self-preservation when they're in love, if you think about it.

I got hurt because you know me. When I chose you, I have lowered all of my walls that I kept high above myself. You saw me. More naked than being naked itself. I showed you I was vulnerable. You knew the bruises and scars I hide in my body. You knew the cracks in my soul that I am continuously pouring cement filling with just to appear whole on the outside. You knew that I was not just fragile or breakable, but I am broken. But I let you in. I let you in. I knew you were destruction but I let you in because I thought, maybe, when you know just how damaged I am, you'll refuse to be yourself. You'll refuse to fire your weapons because my whole life is a white flag.

But you didn't.

You planted bombs inside me and disguised them as flowers. You circled me with ammunitions and made me feel that they were fireworks. You adorned me with barbed wires and told me they were embraces. So when you told me you loved me,

I really did not see what was coming. 

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