(“Roses,” taken at one of the gardens in Budapest (Hungary) by the author, edited and processed using VSCOCam)
Here is the part no one told me about.
You only come back during the worst of pains, when the hardest of tears rush down my face and I remember the words that comforted me during those hours. It was a warmth that was welcoming, as if to say, “tell me what the world has done to you.” You never promised to rid the world of its cruelty, in fact you acknowledged it. You loathed the people that live in it, but you told me to stay strong, to never change. “Don’t think negatively, that’s my job,” you told me, and even through the words of a cell phone, I could hear your cheeky tone come through.
I guess the reason why I remembered you again is because I associated you with these terrible pains. The person whom I thought could never in a million years walk away without even a single word of reason as to why it happened (how did it change in a day? It’s a question i used to worry about, but not anymore) became the one that did so anyway. And the thing is, I don’t know how it was my fault at all. I used to blame myself, and until now, I still have the remains of the bumbling idiot who still has you on the brain. I used to be a hundred percent idiot, but I’m slowly gaining parts of my self back, and soon I’ll be leaving again.
I’m no longer angry, and for sure, I’m no longer salty in the eyes from the tears of not knowing. I never mourned for you. I mourned for the loss of what you’ve been, coming from the person who thought you were enough. You have given me the reason why you couldn’t stay, and I understood. But if you didn’t care for me, why did it take you so long to leave? What in God’s name made you linger instead, feeding me with empty promises of staying when you were going to take flight anyway? People leave, it’s a universal truth, but at least some of them were decent enough to leave a notice. I thought you would be one of those people, but apparently, it’s okay for you to vacate.
But it’s okay now. These are questions I don’t mind unanswered anymore, because you have the freedom to, however painful it may be. And I only wish you the best, that you could find someone that could give you all the reasons to stay, that she will give you the courage to become who you once were.
Sentimentality, after all, is my job. And in doing so, I can never love what you’ve been longer than I can take anymore, not because I don’t care for you, but because I could never care for the death of it.
You only come back during the worst of pains, when the hardest of tears rush down my face. And yet, not a day goes by when I don’t think of you, because despite the pain you have caused me, I can never deny the person you were to me several months ago, hoping that it will surface again and last a while longer for that person who can bring it out again.
And if you were wondering, I’m okay too.