I don’t know where to start, or what I’m going to tell. I’m drowning, maybe.
I tried something, to step over this fucking sad day, this damned celebration. And I reached the line. One line to end this burden. One line leads to another side, I don’t know it’s brighter or not, but it’s different and that’s enough for me.
Her hands and mine, they just don’t fit. Tasteless kiss and frozen arms. Even when she tried to hug me tight or squeezed her lovely face on my chest, my inside was so quiet. I felt nothing, except my own heartbeat, that fucking “thump-thump-thump” sound I heard everyday, not that “boom-boom-boom-OMFG-I’m-
I was starved for love. Your love.
So I left, like a friend who just paid her a visit, before I became that stranger guy, who came then teared her heart apart with those “We should break-up” words. I hate break-up. I always do.
I’m not sad, just mad, but I don’t feel any pressures. There were lines I didn’t dare to cross, and there were lines I wouldn’t let myself to do so.
You know, I changed my hair, buy some new clothes, put my mind on things I love, pretend to be busy like everyone. Sure, everyone is busy, you are busy,… but not me. I’m only busy thinking about you and how to get rid of you and the ghost of our dead memories… But I can’t, even if it breaks me.
My burden is not you, is not how to forget, but the illusions I created, the burning desires to find someone,something to fill in the hole you left. It was me, all the time: I always poison beautiful things.
This Christmas, I’ll send you no gift, no wish.
I know you won’t notice that.
I know, on the other side of Earth, you are busy enjoying every minute of your life.
And I know, that night, and many other nights we had, it’s all past now.
Farewell, black socks and red scarf.
The one I used to call “mine”.