#exposedsoliloquy

I've heard people define the hurt of betrayal as a double ended sword.

It didn't matter if it was the left or the right.

Either way, the blade sinks into your skin, ripping up the flesh until it reaches it's final destination.

Pain and desperation.

Some define it as hearing every person you love saying goodbye at the same time.

The instant loneliness you feel after once feeling so loved.

Lost and confused.

But I guess I've been through the worst betrayal possible.

Why?

Because I no longer feel anything. Emptiness is probably the worst form of betrayal, for what could be more dangerous than losing the fear of dying?

The fear of living a life that was never lived.

I was raised with Disney tales of true love and how a single kiss defined it. I grew up dreaming of my fateful encounter with Prince Charming and how sparks would fly the moment his lips touched mine.

After years of wrong timing and multiple encounters with the wrong people, I finally understood that I was misled to believe that the lips was the only organ that could ever define “true love”.

And then I stumbled upon the likes of him.

I felt true love when we had coffee on a random afternoon, and we exchanged the tales of our youth and travels. I felt true love when we had coffee after a movie, and he enlightened me with the small details of his past, present and future. I fell in love when we had coffee after attending a friend’s wedding and he asked me to list down the things that I couldn’t digest, and he listened to every word that came out of my mouth as if every word was a mind binding spell.

It took me a while to finally realize it, but when I did, it was something that I couldn’t shake off.

True love wasn’t embedded in a single kiss that ignited sparks in my stomach. True love was the ability to feel as if I was being undressed without the need for him to lay a single finger on me. It was the vulnerability I left exposed as I let my walls crumble in a single week after I spent years building it. True love was him remembering that I eat my fries with ketchup instead of chili sauce. It was him not bothering to understand the depths of my anxiety, but to simply accept that it was there. It was him telling me that he loves me without a single hint of doubt in his voice.

True love was just that- true.

Who are you? Why do you hate me so much?

She laughed, looked at me straight in the eye,

“Honey, don’t you remember?” With a smug smile on her lips, she whispered, “I am you.”

Here’s to the me that cries in her sleep,

That fakes a smile and grim to keep.

Here’s to the me that brushes her tears,

That forces herself up and strike with no fear.

Here’s to the me that stood her stance,

That walks towards the future with no back glance.

Here’s to the me that knows no mercy,

That will stop at nothing until she is free.

You said the sun is up when I clearly see the moon, The sky is green, when it is clearly blue, The grass blue, when it is clearly green. All the while you tame me at the back of my mind, Pushing me to see from your perspective now it’s done. I see the moon when it is the sun, I see darkness when there is light, I see only you when clearly you’re gone.

“Are you okay?”

A question often asked.

A question often harmless.

A question often unanswered.

A question often ignored.

A question often hurried.

A question often feared.

A question often asked.

“Are you okay?”

A smile. A nod.

“I’m fine.”

A question often lied to. 

Thought to do it, Thought to not.

Thought to hold on, Thought to let go.

Thought to flee, Thought to fight.

Thought to live, Thought to die.

It was not until the broken glass

With blood dripping on the floor

And I finally realized my problem.

Dying is no longer an option,

It became a necessity.

How much longer is this supposed to go on?

Before I could kiss you goodbye,

And leave the pain altogether.

But you kept me fighting,

To the last of my ability,

The broken glass became my resolution,

The blood became my battle scar.

No wound too deep,

No cry too shallow,

Perseverance is no longer an option,

It is a necessity,

Living is to die for,

Curled bodies straightened up,

Closed doors kicked open,

With a battle cry and insanity,

I will go forth to history.