Run away, because loving me is harder than the race you’re in right now.
My dad has been yelling at me, but I chose to put my earphones on and put the volume on max; no, it’s not because I’m rude, nor am I rebellious, it’s because I can’t bear to hear his accusations about me, much worse, someone who has no clue he’s being accused, and someone who should be saved from all this hatred. It’s better to not hear anything and be hurt, rather than hear every single word and cry to sleep again.
And now, my heart goes directly to you.
It’s been days since we agreed to go our separate ways but for me it felt like weeks, months. Somehow, I knew it was better you did go, it’s the least- and the worst I could do to protect you from all the hatred you don’t deserve.
And for once, I felt like I’ve done the right thing for you.
I allowed you to run. Though I’d rather have us run together, it would be better to let you take the lead and let me be left behind. It’s like we’re in a movie, except that there are no car chases and explosions, only people chasing us, wanting us to separate.
And we did, not because we don’t love each other anymore, but because you somehow knew I have to save you.
I’ve been toxic. I knew it would be hard loving me, but you were hard-headed, as well. I told you to go right, you went to the left. I asked you to leave, you stayed with me. I knew I would be dragging you down, and this time, I didn’t ask you to let go. Heck, I couldn’t even tell you. You just understood.
And for once, I proved to myself that the silence does speak louder than words.
And for the first time, you ran without me.
I was taught not to let go, but for you, I did.
And letting you go, somehow, made me happy.
I’m happy that you get to live a toxic-free life. I’m happy to see that you can be independent, but that also makes me feel worse because we used to be so dependent on each other. I used to run to you when I need to complain about something or when I need a shoulder to cry on. You used to run to me when no one listens to you and when no one believes you. But still, I’d rather you live than die because of me.
What breaks my heart a little (and by little, I mean a lot) is that the things we planned together will be turned to hopes and dreams for the meantime.
But maybe, it’s okay. Not now, but eventually.
Maybe, it’s better if I just stare at your name, waiting for you to talk to me.
Maybe, it’s better if I just look at you from afar, seeing you smile, not as close as before, but as far as ever.
Maybe, it’s better for you to be without someone who talks and clings a lot.
Maybe, it’s better I see you with people who won’t poison you with their love.
What choice do we have?
We should run… but in separate ways. I still pray that we meet at the same ends, and that God would lead us back to each other again. I still pray that this separate race would lead us back to each other again. But if God has a better plan for the both of us, I can say we’d both be happy for each other.
For the meantime, it’s good night. My heart is tired from all the running and the crying.
And I’m sure you are too.