It finally occurs to me that all of these feelings I've sentimentally clutched onto are no longer relevant—as if they were non-existent at the first place, as if all the fragments of the moments we were together that I had cherished and stored at the back of my brain escaped through the cracks of my fingers.
I don't remember how it all started but I know how it all ended. Or maybe I have predicted it in the first place. Because you were too good for me. Or because I was and am just never enough for anyone's company.
We met in one fine afternoon and I remember every particular detail of it: the bookstore aisles, your deadpan humor, the laughs between talk—everything under the rain in April. How in your words I found the flickering lights when the light's off. How your smiles became the blanket I sought in the dreary cold night when my folks didn't come knocking on my door and kiss me goodnight.
Time marched on. Months flew by. You were still running, sometimes pacing, but always alone like you always would, while I stood there, searchingly, quietly, waiting if there's any chance that somehow our fates could intersect. But they didn't. And they won't. I thought you're the home, but there was and never will be enough room for me.
November was unyielding, unrivaled. I asked why but it beckoned me to leave instead and slammed the front door shut. I waved goodbye and ran with head held up.
December was rough. I was cut adrift, nonchalantly leaning against the wall. The silence I had enveloped myself in was deafening. The sun went down & darkness fell, but I lost my track of time. I even needed to question myself every time I woke up, just to make sure that I was there, and all of this was real, so that I didn't need to desperately reach out for a bottle of aspirin for consolation.
I stopped for a break en route while life undressed me, leaving me with lies in January. After the dawn, I came to my senses. That I lost a part of me. Of the gravitational force that pulled me gently towards the ground. Of the chuckles that turned the world upside down. When the tears welled up, I did close my eyes, bitterly and tightly and in every vain attempt to show that February hasn't done me wrong.
It's been a year that you voluntarily walked out of my life, and life still puts me in unease every now and then after you leave me with the unseen bruises, the naivety, the sugarcoated words and promises. It does take time, but I've been wanting to tell you that I have accepted it. I have stopped taking aspirin. I have embraced my vulnerability. And I have been teaching myself so that the next time I fall, I'll make sure to hit the bottom quick, leaving less shards under my skin to be removed.
Your, once, second best.