Albeit flawed,

Emmeria III

05/20/2018

06:56 PM

"Stop drying your tears," she began. For a few seconds I thought I misheard it being the opposite, that she couldn't bear seeing me beaten up, that she finally found a way on putting an end to my orchestral drama. "I'm sorry I'm the one who's okay, and you're not."

I laughed but only in my head. She's apologizing for how she's become the happiest, but she owes it all to my tragedy. Has love become this despotic?

When you said his name and dropped it on me, you must've thought you held only a feather and I wouldn't feel a thing upon contact. Geez, nobody told me how overwhelming the pain was I'm sure even my hundred past lives felt it, too. You should've warned me about January. You might've dragged me off the edge of the cliff and saved me from plummeting.

Or perhaps I was right. I never should've listened when you said I should swim, too; I trusted you when you said you'd never let me drown, so I paddled happily.

Or you were right, too. I gave myself and my dreams too much time I forgot to spare some for yours and even if I did I only gave you "crumbs" of it. That's what you said. You never knew you are part of that same dream I lose myself in and that which you keep on scrutinizing.

But you should know, too:

I almost called you and stayed consistent with our ceremonial 2-hour-pre-bedtime-phone-calls. But I couldn't because I was afraid you were getting tired hearing my voice. I was afraid you'd get used to it that one day talking to you for a minimum of two hours a day would soon become a decree.

I said sorry for all things—even to those that didn't require apologies. I mean, who would say sorry to note-worthy and Disney-material bliss? Who would say it when there were no faults accounted to say it for? So I stopped.

I stopped keeping in touch because I'm afraid you were getting the hang of it and one day you might see me as your wish-gratifying, prince-charming-emulating machine.

I paid you a visit almost down to once a month. I picked you up at school at a diminishing rate. I laughed less and cried more in your face. I changed my Facebook password much to your spite so you changed yours, too. You never knew I only did the best to salvage what's left of my being. My mood changed faster than a speeding vehicle and you suddenly did all of it too, to my surprise. I averted all forms of communication because I could feel myself imploding one human face after another but little did I fathom that you saw it as an opportunity to fly past my bed; albeit knowing that I was the one who gave you wings and taught you the wonders of flying. I humiliated myself in front of your friends and you never bothered talking to mine. Heck, you noticed it all. The guileless, coy girl I once knew is now a sly, smart, keen, and an inquisitive woman. I couldn't be prouder.

But you couldn't notice the storm that has been brewing since you came. I thought you were prepared for it. You said it yourself—you are ready to paint me with all the bright hues of my sunshine and rainbow inasmuch as you are with all the eruptions, bleak etchings, and dark matters of my person. I was wrong. You needn't promise what you are now fulfilling to someone else. I needed a normal relationship, you see—I overthink a lot, I have anxieties far severe than your pet dog on a New Year's Eve, and I panic to trivial things that didn't matter to you then. I needed a normal relationship. I want to go on real fights with you. I want to say sorry for real and for a mistake I really did. I want to cry because of grief and not of hollowness.

When you left, I didn't tell a soul about how many times I died and got reborn for I was hoping you'd come to wipe my tears dry. You missed so much about me I was about to give you something I never showed off to anyone, that there was a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow after the storm. That there was an island waiting for the eruption to pass before it takes form. There were more beautiful stuff awaiting you at the end of the apocalypse. Things that had you foreseen, would've made you stay. But you were hurried—something that still troubles me until now. I'm sorry you only saw the rudimentary scenery. I'm sorry I couldn't keep up with your pace. There was more to it...so panoramic. But you can only say, "Stop drying your tears."