A sunny and windy afternoon, my readers. I’m all alone in the house today, since my parents and siblings left earlier this morning for Laguna. I reasoned with my mom that I had Research stuff to do, but the truth is, I’m just feeling too lazy to leave the house. In fact, I feel like I don’t want to leave my bed anymore and just stay under the covers until the sun blows up into a red giant. (That’s 4.5 billion years into the future.)
Okay, I’ll stop with the science references. On to the topic.
The end. Usually we see this at the end of movies or games (though what I usually see is Game Over, but meh.) When something has reached its end, it means that it has ceased, stopped altogether.
I’m afraid the same could be said for my shattered relationship.
For months, we have tolerated the world and each other. For four long, tortuous months, I crawled into a ball every time I sleep, trying hard to ignore the gnawing loneliness in my chest. Whenever we pass by each other in the corridor, I’m forced to act as if I saw no one, and each step I take is like a jagged edge of a shattered glass repeatedly striking my heart. My heart rate shoots higher than Mt. Everest every time I see her.
She tried her best to work out things. She tried talking to me. Chatting me. Sending me letters. And I swear, I swear to honest God, I tried to do the good thing-I tried to reach out to her again. But it was like there was some dark matter trying to stop me, trying to keep us away from each other.
Furthermore, a blooming feeling in my chest made me more agitated. It was during this time that I was divided in two-the me that still loved her, and the me that wanted to let go. I was helplessly caught in the crossfire.
I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know the right thing to do. So when she called me on the phone, my other half-the one that wanted to let go-took control of me. My voice was rising in the computer shop where I was playing, but I didn’t care. At least, my other half didn’t. For the rest of the day, until I got home, the other half-the half that still loved her-was crying so hard. I had hurt her, and I had hurt myself too, in the process. Once again, I let loose my emotions.
But she didn’t give up. She worked harder to recreate the old, rickety wooden bridge between us. For a few weeks, I felt it getting stronger again. The old feelings, slowly trickling back.
But it wasn’t enough.
This other growing feeling soon took over my heart and completely eradicated every ounce of love I had. It made me feel guilty, made me feel like a worthless person. There is someone right in front of you who loves you dearly, yet you pushed her away and chose to love this other girl who doesn’t even love you back.
You said you’d never hurt her.
You said you’d never leave her alone.
You promised her that you will always be there for her.
One day, she gave me a hug. A final hug, she said. A final, desperate hug. My old self tried to break the surface and take control, but the stratum of pain and suffering was too much. In the end, she noticed it. She noticed that she wasn’t the girl I love anymore. She acted tough, asked me if I still love her. And I couldn’t answer her.
“I don’t know.”
She pushed me back to my classmates, uttering words into my ear.
“I know. You don’t love me anymore. I know it.”
These words were different. They weren’t swords or sharp edges that plunged into my heart. They weren’t bullets that struck my heart. They were bludgeons, spiked bludgeons that crushed my heart, leaving nothing, nothing, nothing…
…But pain, suffering, and loneliness.
I was right. I knew it from the start. I was never meant to be happy, contented. In this world, in order for people to be happy, there are some who must forever sacrifice themselves, live a life of pain, suffering, sacrifices. And I was one of those unlucky few.
Needless to say… that was it. No more connections. No more bridges.