Ghost President

Ghost President

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Apr 22, 2016
It's just a passing wind. I try shouting at the person next to me. But only silence is looking at me. Why? Aren't they see me? Why are they passing over me? Why am I standing here alone? Why is only my world stopping? I don't care if it's just one person. Just please look back. Please hold my hand. I don't care if it's just one time. Just please hold my hand. Can someone please stop for a moment. Look back at me and hold my hand. Am I really a ghost?
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Bawat kirot ay may katumbas na paghihiganti. Yes, every pain demands a payback. That's the first thing I learned when I loved him. Not consciously, not right away-but slowly, in pieces. He taught me how to love. His love was wildfire-reckless, consuming, beautiful in the way it ruined everything. I thought I was lucky to have it. I thought he saw something in me. Maybe he did. Maybe he saw the parts that were already breaking. He taught me how to bend the rules, how to silence the voice in my head that said "this isn't right." With him, right and wrong blurred until they didn't matter. Until all that mattered was staying close enough not to lose him, but distant enough not to drown. And then came pain. He taught me pain in a thousand unspoken ways. In words that stung more than silence. In apologies that came too late. In touches that lingered with regret. And pain... And pain. Again and again No fairy tale. No forever. It was never about soulmates. It was just... a story. A complicated, messy, painful story. But still, I gambled. I bet my heart on something that didn't deserve it. And in the end, that so-called love? It destroyed me. It didn't just break me-it broke everything I cared about. Everyone I loved. It burned through every soft thing I had left inside me. Because that love... Was disastrous. Behind the illusion of love hid everything I was afraid of: pain, betrayal, lies, manipulation. A heartbreak wrapped in promises. A knife dressed like a kiss. But here's what no one tells you: after heartbreak comes something sharper. Stronger. Revenge. And revenge-it's not sweet. It's not cold. It's best served hot. The kind of heat that doesn't ask for closure. It takes it. I, who was a he, now turned into a she. I will serve pain out of pain. Not to mirror the cruelty, but to remind the world: You don't get to hurt someone like me and walk away unburned.

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