she looked at me. and with those wide eyes, openly wondered why we'd get this stabbing pain in our chests whenever we get our hearts broken.

i nod.
and smile.
and agree.

but what i don't tell her is that i don't just feel it there.
i feel it at the tips of my fingers.
and with every breath,
i hurt all over.


i feel it from deep within.
and sometimes,
if i don't hug myself hard enough,
i feel like i'm going to be obliterated into nothing.

i have to tell you something..
i have to tell you now or i will never be able to say it..
i love you.

and i don't care if you'll never say it back.
i am finally going to give myself permission to feel.
hurt.
sadness.
joy.
but most of all, i feel love.

i tried to stop it. ignored it.
but your gravity holds me.
i know i will pass your roche's limit and you will soon obliterate me.
i can't do anything about it.
but i don't care.
i want you to know that you are loved.

sometimes, i wonder if i ever made the slightest scratch in your life to merit a memory..
even a tiny one where you'll say.. "ahh. that was mich"..
and maybe cause you to raise the corners of your lips.
not enough to be called a smile. no, that would be farfetched, i guess.
no, not a smile but something that could have been the beginning of one.

you painted a picture of me. is this how you see me?
it's so different from what i see of myself. of you. of us.
i'm sorry. if i stare at it for so long, i am afraid that i will accept it as a truth. i have to go. i do not want to forget who i am. i will finish my own painting.