"Dear God, I've been such an idiot. How do I become someone who makes my loved one happy instead of sad and confused? I thought love was accepting the person in question, but I can't seem to find that type in this world so far."
Do you consider how a person's mind works? I can't help that I forget even the most important of details that you treasure so dearly. It doesn't mean that I don't care — it's just how I am; can't you accept that?
If I could, I'd change that part of myself in an instant to see you smile at me once again. I guess you've finally gotten fed up of waiting for me to remember, and I don't blame you, not when we've been together for so long and I haven't changed — maybe a little — but I don't think that's enough for you. You deserve far more.
"I'm sorry..."
"That's not enough," you'd probably say. I'm afraid of saying it to your face because I hate being scolded by you the most. I just want you to love me and be patient, but I'm the sort of person who no one can love without losing their patience over.
I shouldn't have done this to you. I've hurt you so much — I can see the pain in your eyes that you tried to suppress over the time we spent together.
"...and i've hurt myself too." I whisper to myself, afraid of saying it out loud because I know that you'd only be angered further and tell me not to think of myself all the time.
You're right, I am selfish, I am lazy. I'm sorry for who I am. I'm sorry for not being the woman you envisioned to be your first love. I should have tried harder to improve, but I never did because I thought that you loved me enough to accept me for who I am, like how I love you, flaws and all.
I just don't have anymore hope for a single person to truly love me unconditionally the same way that I vowed to love you, or maybe I didn't love you as much as I thought I did, but my heart was in the right place. You obviously couldn't see it because you can't see the palpitating bundle of flesh beneath my cage of bones — the heart of one's soul is never a sight to be revealed to an outsider.
"What went wrong?" They asked.
I shrugged nonchalantly as if I wasn't as upset as I really felt deep down.
"A better question to ask would be 'Who was wrong?'"
YOU ARE READING
Short stories and poems
General FictionThese are all just some short stories and poems that I have written as a result of inspiration from various sources, mainly animes and films that I watched, which have led to daydreams, hence why I can picture these stories and be able to describe t...
