Closing the chapter

I have absolutely no idea from when, did I start noticing my tears on almost everywhere, anything. So many times I relied on the shoulders of my girlfriends, my Daddy, hims. Yet it were the hims that cause my tears to fall. Crying out doesn't seem to express all my sorrow at one time; rather it reinforces the dwelling on a past soaked with doldrums. Far too many times I know I would bury my face in my hands, hands that Jewel said belonged preciously to that respective individual. I saw my tears on my hands, my wrists, clothes, bag, books the train's railing bar, computer keyboard, pillow, Papa's shoulders, his hands, his face, his shoulders. But I never saw my tears in his eyes, because they were already taken up by hurt and his own tears.

Now, I go through an exhausting process of reproaching, which ends up in a somewhat futile outcome. Actually it matters not who did more, who did who wrong, who hurt whom. The only argument of interest is: I'm wrangling with my decision. Every few days, I've been crying myself to study, to sleep. The tears will never stop flowing I realised, until I really learn about letting go what is not meant to be.

Things have deteriorated to such a stage that fatigue won't be my sleeping pills, and sorrow is my new form of unintended caffeine. The word 'argument', yes, has been a truckload of problems that led to where I am now.

An uncommitted attitude and dire slave to the opinions of others - I'll never forget these 2 harsh attributes of myself. Or is it really me? My folks may not agree about the 2nd being untrue, but perhaps they would have something to preach about the 1st. Like a double negation in the previous sentence, it confuses and serves to warp the mind of readers. Because I'm much more perplexed than what I pen down. Don't I deserve some saving grace as a female? But you could retort by saying he deserves some male face after all I was the one who said to go separate ways.

Contradiction and hurt are complementary elements. I've been causing more hurt by wanting to know if he's living his life well everyday, especially if he's dating anyone else. And I'm a bloody idiot by being upset because he doesn't reply my messages or return my calls after all I was the one who said to go separate ways.

I sacrificed more than I should, to make his day seem a bit better. And I only inherited betrayal and ignorance the next morning. His friends' personal account of our going bad lingers as part of the bad memories. I am told countless times not to care but this is me. This is pathetic Athena.

When the sun rises, I acquit myself of all emotional baggage and tears. I can no longer bring myself to care for someone who doesn't not care any longer. Now I can say what I want to do simply.

I rest my case: after all I was the one who said to go separate ways.