Charades

If I were to be honest, I would tell you how much I miss you.

If I were to be true to myself, I’d choose to spend time with you.

If I were not confused, I’d say with all certainty and sincerity that it is you.

And if I were strong enough, I’d bare my heart and soul to you even if it would mean vulnerability.

But I’m not. I still have that old habit of playing charades. Stopping would signify the possibility of fatality. The game has become my veil to mask my fear for what’s real.

You, yourself love to play this game. I know why. It is because you also know that there is no wonder or prestige, or even bliss at the very least, in being a fool. There will only be hurt and sorrow.

But I’m starting to get tired of this silly game. Haven't you?

It hurts me to know that I can't have the things that I want most. Especially when I think I deserve it.

Not a Love Story

I admit, everything came rushing back to me the moment he stood by my side. I remembered the reasons why I liked him. I remembered how it felt being with him.

There’s always this sense of security, like no matter what happened, I know that he’ll be there to take care of me. I know that he’d understand my immaturity and if he sees my worst, he will still accept me without any hesitation. He also made me feel like I can go places, that I can turn my dreams into reality if I put enough effort and determination to it. He made me better.

It was not long when I understood that what I know to be true were just illusions. Or maybe my expectations were just too much. Either way, it hurt me and I wasn’t ready for the pain.

In that short moment that he stood there right by my side, everything came rushing back to me, like seeing a romantic movie all over again. Only this time, I know that it is actually a tragedy.