Regrets 20.03,09

All those times I didn’t walk away, when I knew it was best to go, seem to be coming back to haunt me tonight.

Of all nights, does it have to be tonight?

And I sit back, thinking on everything, and finally I see, they were never mistakes…every action had been carefully and diligently planned in my sub-conscious mind, but yet, as usual, tonight again, I shifted the blame to my silently accepting helplessness.

I know I should hold nobody responsible for my actions except myself, I am no stranger to the voices constantly echoing inside of my head, and yet, as usual, tonight again, I ignored them, hoping in vain that they’ll fade away.

I realize that soon enough everything will catch up, because frankly I cannot run from them much longer. And I know, without anybody whispering to me, that when I finally stop long enough to catch my breath, karma is going to sneak up on me. And who would I blame then? Knowing fully that I’m the one responsible for my circumstances, and yet, as usual, tonight again, I fight myself, I truly fight myself.

You have been everything you have said you would be, and yet I hold you responsible for what I do to me. It’s so easy to fall into that same old routine. I call it a mistake, you call it, unfortunate. So as usual, tonight again, I ask for permission to take advantage of your love, to use you because you always understand.

I realize that you may not always be there, here, and I know that a time will come when I will cry, and cry, begging you not to leave me, that this will be the last time, all the while knowing fully well that the last time will be a next time, and the next time will be a last time…till the last time doesn’t come. Because “the last time” doesn’t exist for me.

And yet, even as I type this, I realize that it really isn’t my entire fault. It is possible to lie, but I have chosen to always say the truth, no matter how aggressive or unfaithful it may be. Because I realize I’d rather live without you honestly, than live a lie in your love. And for that alone, I deserve your sympathy, once again, I ask for understanding, because I do love you.
And I do love you…hopelessly…completely…faithfully. And yet, as usual, tonight again, I try to convince no one else but myself, that I never meant to hurt you. Once, I called it a mistake, but now, I call it foolishness.

And I ask you to please still love me. I feel no shame in begging for your undying love, because I still, always will, love you…hopelessly…completely…faithfully.

Exhaustion

Exhaustion


I have experienced so much of it, and yet sometimes I have to sit myself down and question me—how have I come to be this way? And where does this exhaustion come from?

I cannot say that I have lived my life to the fullest, and yet within me I am aware of the fact that this is not my fault. On countless occasions I have been forced to grow up when I was meant to be a kid or a teenager, or just a girl.

I have grown up, I have grown up, and yet I feel so inexperienced when I think of all the activities I just scaled through. All the things I was always too young to do, and then gradually became too old to do.

And yet through this building frustration, I know only exhaustion. Exhaustion that rises from repeatedly doing the same things-things I could have done without.

And through this I do not complain. For they look upon me with their up-turned noses thinking to themselves, “She has known no pain”. But I have. I have known pain to the point of sheer exhaustion.

You see, the same things keep coming to hunt me. Not the unknown things that I wish I had access to, to quench my inexperience, but the things I have been through so often already that I have mastered their vices.

And yet they silence me when I voice out. It’s a shame really, that I allow the same people who forced me to grow up too fast to kill my spirit too soon. Too soon. And when I think about it, really think about it, what is my gain?

When I reflect on the things I have left undone, the numerous lives I have been too busy to touch, what is the realization?

Exhaustion.

I could have been better.

Letter from a Broken Healing heart

Can I tell you a secret? Would you keep it?


This is the last time I would put my heart before my head. You see, loving you has made me realize that it’s too easy to let hate be the remedy of every situation. I love you one day, and the next I despise you. I’ve realized that people who love us can still hurt us, and betrayal by them hurts the most. So today, I’m saying that I’m taking charge of my life; your love won’t rule me.

Taking charge isn’t shutting you out, and it isn’t keeping you away, it’s simply taking control of my own heartache, disappointment, and loss.

But before I withdraw my heart from your grasp can I ask you a question?
The love you showed to me, was it my illusion?
You always say it’s all about me, but don’t you see? It’s not about me if you still love her. It’s not about me if I call your heart and love doesn’t answer.

There are so many questions I have to ask—
Who did you love? And who did you truly love? Did you break her heart? Or did she break yours?

You don’t see that you’ve been living two different lives, loving two different girls, telling two multiple lies. You don’t see that your apologies have begun to have a familiar pattern. But I do. See.

Your wounds are deeper than your desires. Your head wants me, but your heart is still healing, and even though I knew this all along, I always thought that maybe, just maybe, love could truly heal all wounds, but you’re not even giving yourself the opportunity to love me in return. You’re so consumed in your self-pity that you don’t see that you are really hurting yourself. Not me. But yourself, and no matter how hard you try, your lies won’t hurt me.

What value is life if it is a lie? The fact that you have chosen to live a lie is enough to tell me that you’re in too deep in your self- pity, but you don’t see, that I’m in too deep in loving you, I’m trying to keep from loving you but I’ve been loving you too long.


I’ve finally realized that I don’t want to hurt me anymore. I realize now, that you have to be alone. You can have me fight for you, but I won’t. I don’t want to fight myself because of you. You love yourself more than me, so often you’ve chosen you over me, and in reality the only thing you’re giving me are promises.

Your deception is a conception of the game of pretence…
You pretend to be fully healed.

It’s too easy to let hate be the remedy for this situation. You, like all the other boys I have loved at a point in my life, fail to see that me, and any other girl that has ever loved you so strongly may detest you even more.

I should have known that if you are for me, no one can take you from me, not even your past.

Emotion is power, and passion makes a fool of us all, however, some of us more than others.

So many times I wish I never met you, never touched you, never wanted you, never needed you, and never loved you. And sometimes wishes come true in ways you don’t wish for. Sometimes you just get tired…of being alone, being afraid, being sorry, being guilty, of trying so hard and failing so miserably, and of making mistakes with love.

You claim to love me with all your heart, and I believe you with all my heart, but my head tells me differently, and I would be a fool to fight it.




Me.