Stop and all the thoughts that occurred to me after you said that word

I still remember that day when you finally smiled back at me. I was wearing a plain white shirt paired with turquoise shorts. I was studying for my exams that day when you called my attention to borrow something and it’s as if everything was back to normal. As if nothing bad had happened between us. As if there’s nothing to worry about. You smiled back at me so innocently that I wanted to instantly smile back at you just so you would know that I appreciated that small act of kindness.

But I never really did.

Because I know that deep inside you’re still judging me. You’re judging me because of what you know about me—the worse kind of things. But what can I say? You knew me because of those things. Those were your first impressions of me besides being that innocent and shy girl you see in class, someone who doesn’t know the answer to the question our professor asked her.

One day you told me to stop whatever we were doing with ourselves. I don’t know exactly why, but you did. Right back then, I swore I was nervous. I was nervous of the days after that day. Will I be able to talk to you again? Will I be able to reach out to you again? Will I still be able to consider you as a friend?

Because just so you know, I’m really afraid of losing people. I’m afraid of letting people go. I’m afraid of setting them free.

But, you know, at the same time I’m also afraid of keeping them. I’m afraid that they might get scared of my attitude. I’m afraid that they won’t show up after a while because I gave them a reason to go away.

Maybe that’s what happened the first time you told me to stop whatever we were doing. I got overwhelmed with you presence. I got too relaxed and comfortable with you that I never really thought through my actions towards you. I got no control of myself that all I ever thought about was my feelings and I never really considered yours.

But surprise, you came running back. You came back and told me all the shit about me. You told me that I was a sad teenager and that’s not a good thing. You told me that I need a boyfriend even though I keep saying “No, I don’t need a boyfriend or anyone in particular.” There was also a time when you told me why I am depressed, that I am crazy, that I need to stop blaming all to myself.

And I thought it was making me good. Well, it was making me feel worse and great at the same time. Because you also came back and gave us the permission to do it all again. You told me that you trust me again. And that was it, sealed with a kiss.

A kiss of death.

Nobody warned me enough that this life will be hard. That this kind of lifestyle will need a lot of understanding and patience. That it requires a whole lot of the “I don’t care” attitude towards everything. Nobody warned me that I will learn how to hide the pain and shame as I keep on going in this lifestyle.

All I wanted was to be appreciated. All I wanted was to feel like I was important. All I wanted was the attention and satisfaction.

And I thought I got all of that after that moment that you kissed me. I thought you came running back because I can give it all to you. I thought you were looking for me because all you can ever think about was me. You even told me that you consider me as your best friend. You even held me and kept me in your arms as if you needed me so badly.

It all turned out to be such fake imitation of what you really think of me.

Because the second time you told me that we need to stop whatever we were doing, you told me that what you need is just a friend. But not a friend who keeps on talking to you all the time, who I can ask if we can go to dinner or go for drinks, basically not a best friend, but a friend who gives you space and will not really talk to you that much because we might become a hot issue or who will not ever ask you to hangout ever again.

And now, I’m sorry, but I hate myself.

I hate myself for believing whatever I thought you meant that day you kissed my lips again. I hate myself for thinking you really cared about me when in fact all you really cared about is you and whatever is good to you. I hate myself for thinking that you’ll like me enough because I can give you what you want.

I hate myself for not ending this sooner. Everything becomes bad when it comes to you. I hate it because I even did things I never thought I’d do to someone who just doesn’t care about me. You’re the trigger to my depression right now and all I want to do is not get a taste of you anymore.

But I’m scared, once again. I’m scared that if I start ghosting you, you’ll forget about me. You’ll not remember that I’m still here, your “friend.” I’m just really scared of losing another person in my life who really knows me. I’m done with people leaving me behind with all the memories they made with me and it’s as if I’m the only who cherish them.

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