“What’s wrong with you?”
Wrong. Wrong question. It’s ‘what’s wrong with us?’
I don’t know what’s gone on but I’ve never really wanted to know the truth. My heart wasn’t broken and definitely not for a person who doesn’t know how to open me up, and get me firing questions.
“We can fix this.”
But love isn’t meant to be fixed, it’s meant to be felt.
It’s all disappeared and I don’t wanna look for it. You told me we’ll be fine but whenever there’s “It’ll be fine”, most of the times it’s a lie. I don’t mind lies but I don’t do bad lies ’cause I’ve never liked trusting people.
“I feel sorry for you.”
No, you don’t. You pitied me and you only wanted to help, you wanted to heal, but never wanted to understand, which now you no longer can’t.
You never could.
Trusting. You see, disliking something and being scared of it is somewhat difficult to be set apart. Feels like giving a promise to someone, which to me, it’s basically pointing a gun at my chest, preventing it from finding a trigger pull.
“But you said…”
I’ve said a lot of things and I’m sorry I do forget things.
The last words you said to me were I’m your best friend but I’m not and never was your friend. I’ll be your past and I’ll always be going away and I might never come back this time round.
I told you my best lie, and if you hadn’t bought it, only if you hadn’t, maybe I would have stayed.
© Jidapa Chang-in