dear j

[9]

march 1, 2011

 

dear j,

                it sucked on how i dealt with myself. i was in grievous pain. no one noticed, not even you. was this how invisible people felt? i felt them, you know, the heartaches and all those bullshit i had been keeping up. i didn’t write you for four days because i thought somehow, you didn’t deserve to be thought but after four days, you proved me wrong. this was sick, j. you were so good at it you kept me hanging with a rope tied around my neck. i still waited for days that you would pull me up now and that i had been patient and your reward to me was the love i had been waiting.

                but i couldn’t get what i wanted, could i?

                i shouldn’t be thinking of you now. you just made me hurt.

--&--

march 1, 2012

 

dear j,

 

                yesterday is february 29.

                and it’s a leap year.

                i remember how you want to experience february 29 once more because you love leap years.

                but you haven’t.

                i cry yesterday when i hear your voice inside my head, those words you keep on repeating on me when you look at the stars and as i gaze at you, your long and dark eyelashes that makes other girl jealous (but not me, because you tell me i have nice lashes), your almost-black eyes staring up at the dark-tinted sky. you’re so beautiful during those moments.

                “i want a leap year with you,” you say, your brown eyes looking at me. it’s summer and the hot wind blows your black hair over to your forehead which makes it look dishevelled but you look perfect to me. i cry honestly for that me because it’s june 16. it’s the day before your birthday. isn’t that weird?

                andrew seems to be pestering me all the time because he saw me crying. he starts being an arsehole again. he apologized at the coffee shop a few days ago but he’s at it again—the arse thing. i cry even more and i run away, and he chases after me and envelopes me into a hug. i’m a broken girl and he doesn’t know that. he doesn’t know how i feel because he’s good at it. he likes to meddle into people’s lives because he can’t have one.

                ”shh,” he hushes but it makes me sob even more. his arms around me feel so wrong but at the same time it feels so right. am i doing the right thing, j? my mind is on haywire. i can’t think properly.

                “go away,” i say weakly but he doesn’t let me go. he’s held me captive. i try to fight his grasp but he’s too strong. i’m a strong girl but why can’t i beat him? because i’m too tired, crying over you. this is messed up. i am messed up.

                “i’m sorry,” he says again.

                “just go,” i whimper and he lets go. i let him walk away. i don’t need his comfort.

                but the voice in my head—your voice—tells me that i do.

forever yours,

a