My shelf is occupied by journals, short stories I used to write when I was in high school; compact discs of songs, pictures and Korean dramas; bric-a-brac of sorts; letters from friends and lovers, yeah lovers to make it more dramatic.
There are boxes and a maroon rectangular chocolate tin can. I asked my mom for this tin can because I just like tin cans. And probably because it's large enough to hold our memorabilia: movie tickets, pictures, letters, and whatnot.
I took the box. I would be lying if I said that I'm indifferent on opening it. I was afraid that the feelings that I've been suppressing for more than two years will flourish. It worried me that the most trivial things you and I shared would catch me off guard.
I can no longer stay like this. Drunk in the idea of you and I. I played Need You Now by Lady Antebellum to make it more dramatic and painful. I opened the lid. I felt vulnerable and exposed. All those memories, bitter and sweet like the chocolates that that tin box once contained, were coming back.
I could have closed the box and threw it away along with its contents. You would have wanted me to do that. To cut to the chase. You would have wanted me to stop expressing what I feel. And yes, I guess you invalidating my feelings was one of the reasons why we ended things.
YOU ARE READING
Why We Fell Out
ContoThis is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is nothing else but purely coincidental. Especially you, Angelo... Asshole.
