“If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”
― Gabriel García Márquez (1927 - 2014)
i. Do not tell me you love me just because you know that I have feelings for you. It would be nice if you’d feel the same for me, but knowing that you just forced yourself to love because of pity, is twice as painful as knowing that you could never love me. Do not force your feelings. If you do, then you do. But if you don’t, that would be fine to me. At the beginning, I already told myself that there is a chance that you may never fall for me the same way as I fall for you and that is okay. I am aware that you cannot get everything you want and things doesn’t always come your way.
ii. Do not tell me you love me just because you got attracted to me. Darling, I am telling you. Love is not just a physical attraction. Love is far beyond that. If you fall because of someone’s physical appearance, then maybe, it’s plain attraction. If you fall because of their wits and their ability to persuade people through their words, or if you fall because of their talents and skills, that for me is admiration. If you fall for their body, then that is lust. But if you fall without any reason, and you just wake up feeling like you cannot live without them, then maybe, that is love. Love has diverse meanings. But you know what I mean, don’t say you love me when you are not sure of what are you feeling. Sometimes, it could be mistaken to crush, infatuations and other stuff. But they are all swallow and love has a deeper context, remember that.
iii. Do not tell me you love me just because you need someone to tell you “I love you too.” If you are feeling empty, and you need you think a significant other immediately, I am sorry but I could never be one. If you really love me, you’ll show your efforts. You won’t mind the test of time. You will definitely wait for the right time. You won’t give up easily just because I didn’t say yes after few months of courtship. If you really want me to say I love you too to you, then make me do it. Show me you are all worth it. If I do see that you are indeed worthy of all the pain I may suffer, then I will readily give you my yes.
iv. Do not tell me you love me when you haven’t seen me at my worst. I am really impulsive. I usually have emotional breakdowns. I am moody. I could be laughing right now, but after just a second, you could see me crying inside my room. I am not that girl who always has her hair fix. Most of the time, you’ll see me in my old loose shirt wearing jeans and my favorite pair of sneakers. You can’t force me to wear heels and skirts because they are not my thing. My hair is always a mess, I eat a lot, I snore when I sleep- those are things that might turn you off. So please, don’t say you love me unless you could handle me during my worst.
v. Do not tell me you love me unless you really do.
i. Do not tell me that my eyes are like the stars. Do not tell me that it brightens up your evening sky. There is one thing I am sure of- my eyes don’t have gleams. They are dull and not that expressive. There is nothing special about it in fact, when I look at them in the mirror, they do not reflect the stupendous galaxies above rather, an image of an unattractive woman. Stars are truly elfin. Stars, they shine even they are beyond my horizon. Stars are just too magical to be compared with something dun like my eyes.
ii. Do not tell me that my lips are like roses. Roses are truly delicate and romantic while my lips has nothing to do with being precious. My lips are even more pale than a dying patient’s lips. They are lifeless and lack vivid hues. If my lips were to be painted, not even a bystander would care enough to look at it and appreciate it. Simply because it is boring. So darling, please, just don’t.
iii. Do not tell me that my hair is like vines; flourishing in time. Darling, I do not even have time to comb my hair and most of the time, it has a drowsy look. It does not stay in place all the time. It does not sway together with the wind. I can see no beauty in it at all.
iv. Do not tell me that I am as beautiful as spring time. Spring time is such a wonderful season. The trees, from being bare, to beauteous one. It’s like from being dead, to being alive. I have nothing to do with being alive. I’m physically alive, but my inside is dead, I tell you. Passive, as they all said. Silence engulfed me long time ago. I find peace in silence.
v. Do not tell me that I am the sun of your life. You see, it is not that I do not love you. It’s just that, I cannot light up your life the way the sun does. I myself, loves darkness and I am afraid, that’s all I got. I am afraid that my presence will just bring darkness in your life. I do not want you to hide inside this pitch-dark abyss I’m into. I want you to live your life in the midst of a flower fields where all you can see are colors and beauty.
vi. Just don’t compare me with all these heavenly objects. Your metaphors might hit my heart hard. And I may fall in love with you. I am nothing but mischief and trouble. I want you to find happiness and you might fail to do so upon choosing me.
Do not plant seeds of hatred in your heart.
Soon, it will grow into small sprouts of envy. You will hate every single detail about that person even if there is nothing wrong about them. In your eyes, they are full of flaws. You will always say that there is something wrong about them but the truth is you are nothing but a fault-finder human being. And you hate them because you are jealous of them. You will never appreciate anyone. You will never see their worth because you are blinded by the hate you are feeling towards them.
These small sprouts will grow into a bigger plant of insensibility. Because of anger, you might by pass their feeling. You may never hurt them by means of physical actions, but you may use your words against them. Remember that words are like daggers. When you use them against people, they could be killed emotionally by those words. You could bring them extreme pain and they may bleed a lot inside. But the thing is, your insensibility towards their feeling might turn into apathy. And I believe not caring at all is even worse.
Lastly, when you let it grow into a big tree of anger, you will found yourself underneath it and you will then be consumed by the darkness of its shade. So before it grows into an enormous tree, put a stop to it.
Never listen to my mouth because it speaks nothing but lies. Though I am suffering and secretly dying inside, you will hear nothing but “I am okay.” It hinders people from understanding what I really feel inside. My mouth is the reason why every single person thinks that I am strong- that I do not need any companion for I can do it by myself. But behind every “I’m okay” my mouth says, is my heart, slowly falling apart and turning into dusts.
Never believe my lips because it will show you nothing but smiles. Despite of everything, my lips always try to smile no matter what. Even if I am being engulfed by agony, even if I stay awake all night because of my night-long laments, still, I would smile in front of people I would meet everyday. I do not want others to feel sorry for me. I do not want them to think of me as a weak, sensitive girl who seeks attention by means of getting emotional every now and then. I smile so that people would think that I am okay.
Never believe the words I wrote in my letters because I could easily fake them. I could easily tell you that I am fine and that I am perfectly okay despite of the fact that I am actually seeking for someone’s help because I am about to breakdown. I could easily lie to you. I could put all happy-related terms in my letter and none of them might actually be true.
The world is full of lies and so am I. “I’m sad” could easily be replaced with “I’m fine”. An “I love you” could easily be replaced with an “I’ve moved on.” You see, lies are almost everywhere. But darling, if you really want to know, the real me. If you really want to read me- look straight into my eyes and it will tell you every single thing about me.
And I’m telling you, you don’t point out my sadness as beautiful. It is not poetry. It is not your source of metaphors, not the one you feed with fragility, and scabs, and bones, and flesh, and scars—my sadness has got nothing with you. I wish you would have just left my sadness as it is—raw and bold, nothing to hide. Unpretentious. My sadness doesn’t come in colors, don’t give it meaning. If I were to remind myself of every word I would ever associate with sadness, I’ll find nothing that could match it. Nothing like sadness could combine with sadness. Dare say it’s beautiful, and I will pour you a drum of it—so when you feel the pain you won’t feel the beauty. Trust me. Sadness is not something you can turn into art. Don’t love my sadness. Don’t make it your benefit. I don’t get sad so you would have something to write about.
You were a thief.
The first thing you stole to me was my heart. You made me fall using your words. You know how much I love words specially if they are weaved into perfect sweatshirts that could protect me when it is freezing cold. You told me a lot of promises. I was a fool way back then so I readily believed in you. It was under the pitch-dark sky when you told how much you love me. You told me that the stars are the witness of the love you’re feeling for me, and that I would be the judge to tell you if I am feeling it or not. That moment, you’ve successfully stole my heart.
Another thing that you stole was my time. After a month of making me feel loved, you started being cold. From thirty missed calls down to no call at all. I spent hours and hours waiting for someone whom I thought loves me the way I love him. I was wrong. And then I realized that I was waiting for nothing. Like how I used to wait for Santa during Christmas when I was still a child. When we met, you we’re as joyful as summer. But now, you’re even colder than winter. I don’t know what happened.
Then I realized that you’re already the subject of my poems and writings. You did not just stole my heart. You’ve also preoccupied my mind. All I can think about is you. And how you stopped making me feel loved. You were the reason behind my bittersweet poems. You were the reason behind these cuts on my wrist. You were the reason why I wake up at three o’clock in the morning just to cry my feelings out. You were the reason why I became nyctophilic; why I became in love with darkness. It is because when you left me, you took all the light in my life with you. You left me with nothing but darkness.
So stop denying that you’re not a criminal.
Stop telling me that you’re innocent. Because you’re not. And stop telling me that you did not kill anybody. Because that night, when you told me that you did not love me- not even once and took back all the things you’ve said, you killed the entirety of me. I bleed but you were too blind to see it. You left me lying on the floor, like a broken glass. You hold me and brought me up in the sky. You made me feel like I am on cloud nine. Then all of a sudden, you dropped me and left me with my broken pieces.
— Beau Taplin, "Hell exists."
I guess I have to stop writing about you, even just for the mean time. Maybe as the snow stops falling, I should temporarily cease my feeling for you too. Maybe it’s time for me to realize that you have no chance to read my writings after all and that if you ever did, you wouldn’t even care. Maybe I should stop wasting my pen’s ink writing the words my mouth cannot say. Maybe I should stop wasting my journal’s pages just because I keep on repeating my poems for you because I am afraid you may not like it, though I know that you will not read those, still, there might be a very little chance that you will, despite of the fact that you won’t read my works. Just so you know, these works are all for you. Most of the time, I will write about how wonderful you are or how perfect you seemed to me but sometimes, I write about the pain you brought to my heart and how your apathy stabs me at my back leaving scars.
I guess I have to stop thinking about you, even just for a second. To be honest, you are always in my mind. I do not know what sorcery is this but no matter how hard I try, you will always be stuck on my mind. I guess I really have to divert my attention to other things knowing that you are nowhere to be found. Of course, you chose to be gone and not to be found. I guess I have to think about something else.
I guess I have to stop loving you. Of course, it pains me to be a victim of unrequited love, but do not worry, it is not your fault that you cannot fall in love with me. Just look at me, I am nothing compared to the highlights of the societies. Those perfect creatures. I am nothing compared to them. But if there may be a chance that you might change your mind (and choose me over those goddess), I’ll swear to you that I will love you more than they could ever do. I could not offer anything more. I only have my heart and a pen.