The Unfinished.

Today, I went searching for a show that could hold my attention, and to my surprise, I saw ours. I couldn't watch it, though. I realized no matter how much I loved it, I couldn't bring myself to watch it without you. That was ours. Our time together, our shared laughs, even our shared glances. I had to bury that part of me that came with love. I didn't bury love, but I had to bury what I loved because you came attached. It's funny how one can unknowingly take so much without even being present. And that's exactly what you did. You took my time, my love, my attention, and maybe a bit of my sanity when you decided to go another way. I don't blame you. I blame us. I blame who we became to each other due to our unfinished business. I could never blame you. One, because that would be hypocritical, and two, because you were never at fault. I don't search for you as much, but when things do pop up, oh, do they come with a rush of memories. Completely dominating my mind. From head to toe, as if wanting to leave me paralyzed. Drowned in the death of our love. 

You remind me of a broken melody. Once beautiful, now broken. Could be mended but discarded. I still wonder why I torture myself by basking in your absence. I want to say it's just the desires of my heart that are deceiving me, but I wonder if the most logical of my capabilities falls back on relying on the unforgettable knowledge that you are no longer here. My heart was trapped in a box, just reflecting on how my love was told to be cut short, to end, to be locked away because it no longer suited your convenience. What a typical teenage love. One that has to end due to the unwillingness or lack thereof. Like a dream that one drags oneself out of, not because of nightmares but because of fear of letting oneself drift off into an unrealistic world, and maybe that is a nightmare in itself. Who am I to know? Days go by, and books are stacked away in reflection of how I had to categorize and stack away what I once believed to be my love for you. 

How much would it pay for me to confess that I still hold on to every dangling bit of hope like someone in thirst, maybe hunger? I would rather there be no instance of your return, yet somehow my mind seems to make a fantasy of everything I encounter. I don't particularly miss you. Maybe I just missed who I was with you? Maybe I miss having you here? Or maybe that's just a lie I'm convincing myself to believe? I can't fight with my thoughts any more than I can fight with my heart because they both seem to yearn for the unattainable. What does it cost to put away these feelings in my storage box forever? I've been forced to either way. What wouldn't I give? I'm glad. I'm terrified. I'm frustrated. I'm confused. You told me that I wasn't a complex person, yet you couldn't seem to understand me yourself. I believe we are all complex in some sort of way, and no one has the right to tell you if you are or are not. I don't even understand everything about myself. 

I'm fine. I've been moving on. Slowly. Very slowly, but it's more progress than nothing at all. It hurts more if I think I'm not. To believe that I was caught in a web of love and have been trapped there due to my inability to escape. Was I that deep? Now I pretend that I don't know you or who you were. Now I take your secrets to the grave. Now I keep my version of you in a coffin alongside our love. Drastic, huh? I was a love fool, or maybe a fool for love? Well, anyway, besides all this, I still fade into you. Love is horrific yet so invigorating at the same time. I still want it. Hopeless romantic? I'm at least glad I don't allow myself to be controlled by it. Then, I would just have been over. I still want to fade into you. The more I'm not, the more I yearn for it. Not in a possessive way, but I had it, and I was so close; we were so close, and we lost it. To what? The world? Other people? Sin? Whatever it was, we lost it. Together. 

We just weren't strong enough, and I kind of want to blame you for that, but maybe you made a choice that was better for us both. Happy with it? You should be. Be happy that you made this choice because I don't want to hold you back the way our turned-around love is holding me back. Live. Just as I am, but more. Fight against what made us lose. Fight for what you believe you want, just as I will. Fight harder next time. And no, I'm not underestimating it. Just fight it harder than the first time. I've said much, but I will never go out without saying my love stretches as far as the ends or maybe the depths of my void of a heart. 

With much, inevitable, unconditional, and irrevocable love. 

A girl fighting. 

Written By: Alyssa Chin