My ill-fated leap of faith

I have taken a leap of faith.

My very first leap of faith, ever, into your once willing arms only to be dropped so abruptly with no fair warning. It is said that no matter how hard you try, you can never do enough—you are going to piss off someone, hurt someone, and let someone down.
I should be disappointed, however, your action is nothing short of my expectation, and I expected you to let me fall.

I have taken a leap of faith that has cost me my heart. I have taken a leap of faith that has cost me myself. And I could regret it, but I don’t, because the consequences of my action is as a result of my lack of responsibility, I could have avoided this.

My leap of faith that you constantly pressured me into taking has finally broken my fall, broken me. And who is at fault? I could blame you, so easily, for warming your way into my heart with your constant lies and sugar-coated half-truths. But you see, I am my own enemy, and the blame of my foolishness resides in me. Because in the end, in the very end, my belief of your lies is a choice that I consciously made, a choice best known to me.

My love for you can be placed on a pedestal; you can be placed on a pedestal as a form of comparism for every other boy, an epitome of perfection necessary for emulation. In my head. And now I know that you are not as different as you once claimed to be, and now I realise how that bare-assed youngster called cupid has mad a gallant fool of me.
Because regardless of the constant whispering of the so-called bad belle people, regardless of the obvious interference of your stubborn past into our fragile tomorrow, regardless of the apparent ways in which you could hurt me, I fell for you.

Falling for you consumed my heart, soul, and body. Falling for you was my leap of faith. Falling for you was my mistake.