What if?

Just thought of writing something about you again.

What if we never met?

Honestly, I’m glad we did.

My life was all black and white until you brought color into it. I mean it. It’s true. When you came, I’m starting to find reasons to wake up everyday with a smile on my face again. When you came, things around me started to change. When you came, every single day seems to have hope. It’s like there’s this little voice I hear whisper “maybe” when it seems the entire world is shouting “no”.

I’m quite lucky having you in my life right now. After everything you’ve learned about me, you didn’t and never judged me. I’m grateful. You just don’t know how great the impact was to me. I’m starting to believe that someday, someone’s gonna accept me for who I was and what I am today. Just like what you did. Apparently, I wish you are that someone.

Whenever I look at you in your eyes, it’s like there’s something broken inside you that I ought to fix. Why is it that when I’m with you, I feel like you need me? It’s as if there’s a need for me to hug you, to hold you, to touch you. I felt like if I did, it will ease the pain, heal what has been broken, and fill the emptiness inside you. Or, maybe it’s just me who was thinking about it. I could be wrong.

I love to look at your beautiful face whenever we talk. I love listening to your endless stories. I love how you animate them and put sound effects on them. I love your humor. I love your experiences. I love every single word you utter.

I barely know you. But I want to know you more. Not just the good side but I want to see every flaws and edges you have. I would like to love all your perfect imperfections.

I wish I was better telling people how I really feel when I’m with them. But I can’t. I just can’t. That’s why, maybe, I was given this wonderful talent of writing. Because of this, I’m able to let you know how I’m feeling.

There’s always a battle inside my head every night. I don’t want to believe in love anymore. I mean, for me love is just a fantasy. When in reality, it’ll just knock you down. It will hurt you like hell. It will leave you scars. It will give you endless pain and suffering. It’ll give you traumatic experiences. It’ll make you think you want to end your life. When in fact, you and I just want to be saved.

Hopeless romantic, yes. But you know what? I’m just scared as you, to love someone again. To hurt and get hurt. I’m scared of failing someone again. I’m scared of my past doings and what I could possibly do in the future. Yet, you know why I’m writing this? Because I’m an impulsive, aggressive, risk taker, never-get-tired-of-loving woman. Hopeless but full of hope. I’m taking chances I never know what might happen next. Leap of faith, they say.

One day I met someone for some unexplicable reason, I felt more connected to this stranger than any of my friends and family. Perhaps this person was sent to me for a higher purpose, to teach me an important lesson or to keep me safe during a perilous time. I gave him trust, even if he came hand in hand with pain and suffering. Even if he told me not to.

I may grow to love you, but I know that you’re not mine to keep. Maybe you’re not here to save me, but to show me how to save myself. And if I did, who knows? You’ll be a stranger to me once more. I know that could happen. I’m expecting it to happen. Because you know, people come and go. And I’m tired of fighting for them to stay with me. People come and go. That’s the reality.

People you once loved and loved you back. People you love and didn’t love you back. Maybe you never even had a relationship with them. Maybe they just led you on and on and on through some sick, twisted, almost-something and you let it happen, because you liked them too much to put up a fight.

But right now, I’m just enjoying your company. I’m savoring every moment that I’m with you, while there’s something connecting between us. Because I’m fully aware that this may not last. Expectation vs. reality. I’m expecting that we’ll end up together. Reality is, one of us will eventually leave. One of us might won’t take the risk. One of us can be as fuck as an asshole, who’s tired of shitty games and won’t give a damn to any of this. Because one of us is tired, one of us is scared. And we’re not just right for each other.

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