I never knew you enough.
I’ll never know you enough.
My brain would never comprehend why my heart would beat so fast, so hard, whenever I engage in conversation with you. Whenever my eyes would set on you; even when my eyes would follow where you go, where your eyes would set upon, I’ll never know. I would never know why.
Right when it’s most blurry, most bright, most adequate… You have seen me. You witnessed. You were never consistently there but you saw me. You never really had to know every little detail but you understood– you saw me. Somehow.
“You will always be that innocent, that sweet A –– for me,” you would always say.
For crying out loud, I have unleashed myself throwing at your face my shittiest baggage. You don’t even deserve to hear any of it. You are too special. “You are a gem,” I would tell you. And I initially did not want to smear you with any of the trash I have. You dove head first –probably not, I don’t know – just to hear my story; my horrible horrible nightmare. I unfolded my stench unto you and it was stinking badly. How could I remain sweet and innocent amidst the stench that you can actually sense miles and miles away?
“What then is so good about me after all?”
I would always dismiss any other person and smile or say “Thanks” even if it doesn’t really mean a thing just to show gratitude to anyone who would convey anything like “You are you” or “You are special.” In fact, you were the only person I warned about this. I wasn’t lying when I told you to not say anything like that. I wasn’t lying when I said that the last person who told me those things destroyed me; shattered me into million blasted pieces. It could have been worse but I guess I do agree that if I wasn’t me, I would have been residing six feet under the ground long ago – even before I hear you say those kind words to me.
Of all people, why did it have to be you? Why did it have to be you who would say such kind words to me? Of all people whom I would mind saying these things, why you? The last question was stupid really. But of all people who would say such kind words, why did it have to be someone I am somehow enamored with? Why?
Useless. There is no use asking these questions really. Again–WHY? Because it wouldn’t change a thing. I am not fazed that you wouldn’t share my feelings anyhow. I understand that that alone is a sharp dagger straight to my heart. Don’t worry; I am used to watching it bleed every single time. And I’m not surprised to feel this way every now and then.
I can’t even say these things straight to him. Because it still would not change a thing. Honesty wouldn’t pave my path to romance with him really.
If there’s anything that I believe I’d see happening for myself that would be the clocks ticking, clouds moving, time passing all in one direction. Time being time. Life being life. That and many other things. I can’t say that my passion for this guy who claims he accepts me for me would surpass what I feel as of the moment. I can’t even tell if he’d feel the same as time would sweep me off my feet over and over. Should these things and more start to manifest, time and life would just be. Most especially, love. Love would just be.
You know, I would always always always always always always… believe in love. But to believe in any possibility of my achieving love, now or sometime soon… it is just… It cannot be.