az

Self, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for loving someone too much to the point that I let my love for them destroy us. I’m sorry, for we said we’ll never be like our father, and yet we’re becoming like him now. I’m sorry for forgetting the promise we made to ourself that we’ll never fall in love like our mom. I’m really sorry, Self.

I won’t continue writing anymore. The memories I’d treasured, the feelings I kept, I won’t write them anymore. I don’t want to remember how the love that saved me from dying kept me alive just to kill me in a more painful way. I don’t want to remember them anymore, for remembering will make me hate her. And I don’t want it, I don’t want to hate the person I love the most. I rather forget the only reason I’m persisting to live than to live a life hating her. So allow me to say this for the last time, “Arceo, I love you from the moment our eyes met. I love you from the moment you made the world fell silent, I love you from the moment you made the time stood still, and I love you from the moment you made everything stopped existing aside from you and me. Arceo, I love you so much that it hurts me not to love you. But I’ll now need to stop this love, for the pain of not loving you is way better than hating you. Arceo, this will be the last time I’ll be saying your name—the name that used to be my favorite word to say but will now become a curse word that’ll open a deepest pain if I ever speak of it again. Arceo, I love you, I really do. And if ever there’s a next lifetime, I would still want to love you the same way I love you now. But I hope if it did really happen, this love I have for you won’t destroy me again.”

I created a chapter guidelines for MFG and realized that I wouldn’t be able to achieve the goal I had in mind. Before starting, I said that I hope to finish this book before this year ends, but after creating a chapter guidelines, this book would probably have a hundred chapters. How can I write a hundred chapters in 3 months? Am I God? My goal isn’t possible, it’ll probably take me a year to finish this book. 

I'm having second thoughts writing "My Favorite Girl"; I'm torn between continuing or stopping. If I continue writing, it means that the book I'm writing will hold all of my secrets—those secrets that I've been keeping to myself all this time, the secrets I've refused to talk about. Continuing means uncovering those deep wounds and scars, and it'll be very painful for me. But I can't stop either because stopping means I wouldn't be able to tell how wonderful it is to love her, how loving her has saved me so many times from the verge of death, and how loving her has become my only reason to live. Stopping means keeping everything to myself, including how this hell, so—called world, has become heaven in my eyes because of her existence.

I opened my thread account and was shocked. I knew it was full of you, but seeing and reading it again was truly surprising. It reminded me how much I loved you; I really did love you.

I would write a book for you to ensure that as long as this book exists, a piece of you will always be alive, cherished, and remembered. It’s my way of saying, 'You are unforgettable,' to the star that lights my darkest nights.

I’ve been writing for 12 hours without realizing it; I got lost in the deep sea of words. 

I’m afraid of forgetting, so I would write everything while I can still remember.