the fear of letting

It has come to a point where I chose to settle, instead of trying to find ways to move on from you.  Why is it that you still have the capacity of making me feel this way without even trying? Believe me, I wish I knew how to go out of my way to unlove– not you, per se, but in general.  I wish I could find ways to tell myself that while all this may make sense to me, it may not make sense to you.  God didn’t have the Tower of Babel up for nothing.

I wish I could wake up one day to no memory of you– not even the way your name rolls off my tongue so easily, like a language I have mastered over a span of time, or the way you ease into conversation with me.   Remembering may be the greatest thing, but it could be the worst thing to someone who’d rather forget.  I’d rather forget than to remember sometimes, especially since I’m not the kind to move on so quickly.  I’d easily linger, most especially since you give me reasons to.

I wish I could end the day with the face of a fleeting somebody instead, a feeling I’d rather waste on someone who wouldn’t give me the time of day as much as you did.  I wish I could end the day with someone who saw me as someone worth only a hello, and nothing beyond.  I wish he’d be the kind never to ask, because at least I wouldn’t have the heart to try keeping it all in, to have to struggle and to lose my own mind in the process.

Be careful what you wish for.  Haven’t I been cautious my whole life? Haven’t I always tried to go through life by the book, like a recipe? I’m sure there is some precision in the tasks we do, but we do have our vices.  You are mine, sadly and merrily, because you’re a habit hard to quit.  One minute I tell myself that I am capable of losing you, but another minute I find you back in my midst again.  And you are all oblivious to this.  I don’t know whether you really are, or you choose to be in the hopes that I won’t say your name eventually.  I don’t know.  You hold the answers.

But the worst thing to come out of this is to lose you.  Soon enough, the truth will set me free, and in doing so will set you free from me.  It is a choice you might possibly make, to distance yourself from me, to lay my heart in the middle, before washing your hands clean of sin.  And I know it could well be one of the greatest pains I will soon experience (presently, it grows every single day), but I have to ready myself for that anyway.  Who knows? In that pain may lie something else far greater.  I wouldn’t know.

So for now, let me enjoy us before I become me without you.  Let me enjoy you and I before I fall into solitude again.  Let me remember every bit of you before I have to forget.  It’s a choice I wish I shouldn’t make, but in forgetting lies distance, and if becoming strangers again would make it easier for both of us, then the sacrifice must make itself clearer.

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