When I first started writing our story the blank pages whispered a sweet song in my ears. They were filled with the brightness of the stars and the innocence of little kids. My soul was full of passion, my heart became a golden treasure. My life – a mystery I couldn’t solve, because I hoped that we would solve it together.
When I first started writing our story the pages of my notebook glittered like gold in the sunshine. A path of possibilities was created by the huge sea I found reflected in your deep blue eyes. Happiness was felt in my heart because of the beauty of your divine smile. I thought that I found a wonderful soul lost in a garden full of weeds, but I was wrong. So wrong. I didn’t know in the beginning that even angels have their wicked schemes and that what once was beauty would eventually turn into poison. A poison so addictive that would cut into my skin, leaving traces of blood on every inch of my body.
When I wrote the first pages of our love story, our future seemed as bright as the light at the end of the darkness, but soon afterwards, what we had become so evil that I could barely look at us. Fights. Stress. Heartbreak. Tears. Panic attacks. Knives inside my heart. Jealousy. Anger. Hatred. Feelings of emptiness. Words that shattered every living piece of me. Anxiety. Control. Despair. Lying in my bed, unable to sleep, because the pain in my chest was growing. One year and a half and all of these. Suffering, so much suffering….and I loved it all. Yet, I still don’t know why this still surprises me. I don’t understand how your harsh actions leave me speechless even at this point.
I swore to myself that you’ll always be my hero – the one I pictured, my illusion, not the real you. I promised myself once that you’ll always be my hero, even though you’ve lost your mind. I know that it’s sad, but at least I have a hero to hold on to. One who lives in reality, but somehow in his own world, caught up in dreams and games – just sweet illusions. He puts up a mask for the society, because he doesn’t want to let people know how much of a heart he has.
All he did in this story was to watch like a spectator how I hurt myself. My hero stayed aside, in the crowd, just to watch me burn. Die piece by piece. Every day a little bit more. Say nothing. Do nothing. Even when he heard me cry because of him, he tried to keep it all together. Show no emotion. Be a man….although at that point he was a guy on the verge of crying.
Everything was all right, despite the suffering I felt, because I loved it. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have hold on to him for so long. Even when he told me lies, I wanted to believe them. I clung to his words, because, as sad as it may sound, I loved the way he lied to me and how he made me feel.
With gravel in our voices, screams in the back of my mind and words never spoken, I still couldn’t draw the line between true love and a dream full of nonsense. Millions of fights, millions of shattered glasses and a lot of pieces that we needed to stick back together inside our hearts.
I knew from the very first start that in this war against him, I was on the wrong page. He would always win the battles, even though I was the one who was right. How paradoxical! It was hard to lose when all I wanted was to win the fight, but he fought better than me. With stronger weapons and an untouchable heart, at times when my soul was breaking. He fed me fables from his hand, illusions that kept me up at night, which I hoped would one day become real, but never did. His compliments became empty words written in my notebook and his lies lies glittered from the energy I gave away to them.
Maybe I was a masochist, because these battles with him kept me satisfied. I was not craving love, I was craving suffering with each breath I took. I thought I wanted a place out, but each time I tried to run away I came back. I loved the adrenaline , the rush of feelings he gave me, the stories I could write and I knew that until the walls of our memories would be in smoke I would never have peace. The past would keep on haunting me….but as long as I still love the way he lies and how he cuts me wide open I will never have a whole heart.
When I first started writing our story the future seemed so bright, but now we are at the ending and I feel like it’s only the beginning of you and me, of us. The way we should have been in the beginning, but never were. Not lovers, but best friends.
Inspired by this song: