I’m shaking all of my nerves off when I’m writing this, and there’s nothing within me but a shattered glass made from different and contrasting emotions, laying in the depth of my heart. Vivid, alive and colorful.
By this time last year I was crafting up the last details on your birthday present, something that seemed effortless because we hadn’t talked in a long while, and would be pointless to give you something on such a special day, but as the hopeless romantic I am, I had to. I kept the promise on giving you something that was quite meaningful for me, and thought for you it was too, but now that I look back, it was just a thing that didn’t mean enough for you, and you already had it.
I remember having my hands shaking quite a lot because of how nervous I was. Walking the way up to your house, with the blue bag, because blue is one of my favorite colors, laying inside the blue birthday bag was the gift I crafted with all of the feelings I had. I wanted it to be a gift you could treasure, but maybe it wasn’t what I expected it to be with you.
Usually the things I do for people aren’t what I want them to be. They end up being dusty memories of a past they mostly want to forget rather than treasure. That gift wasn’t the exception, and right now I can’t avoid to let the tears roll down my face, because of all of these memories I’ve kept inside.
On your birthday you wrote me a letter, and surely I didn’t expect it at all, but when I read it, I tried to decode every single word written in the blue-stripped white paper, something I shouldn’t have done. Because you throw words to the wind so much, so often, and let them hit the people without any wish to put them back on their feet. Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked you too much. And right now, a year after that walk under the hot sun of June, I see things in a whole new perspective, and I feel like I’m being cruel with myself, but the things are better off right now.
Still that I believe that, I’m not totally sure about it. Because as I’ve seen, I’m not stable with my feelings, and when I’m about to settle with something that I believe strongly in, I tend to change my mind, and regret what I thought was right.
I hate myself because of this. I hate myself for thinking there is some kind of special link between us, and that you feel it too, and want to get attached to me, and whenever we’re together the random touches you give me are just hidden wishes, and you’d like to keep them longer than what you really do. And that maybe you’d like to hold my hand tight with yours, and maybe when the nights are stormy and cold, and you look through the window and see the rain drops you wish you had me wrapping my arms around you. And that when you’re sitting down somewhere alone you just expect me to come in randomly and unexpected and give you a little kiss on your cheek making you blush.
But as far as I’m concerned, those thoughts are just my mind playing me to believe someone like you could love me, when the truth is that you’re in love with someone else.