Music: Lately (deuxième) - Foxes In Fiction
It's really funny how bitter I'm supposed to be. Or could be really. What with all the circumstances and considerable "unfortunate" scenarios that have happened to me, I could really be a very bitter person inside.
As I listen to my friend talk about her latest and most exciting thing to happen in her life as of late, I am reminded of a time when I was in her position. And as she worries over each unreturned phone call and each night spent in copious amounts of doubts over the tiniest things, I can't but help remember the times where I was exactly like that. Incessantly obsessing over every minute detail and every minute of silent seemed to prolong, making it feel like an eternity.
The one thing she had that I did not however was the fact that she could trust the encouragements and words from me telling her not to worry-- they were the truth. I did not. It's not that I did not have the truth thrown at me. If it's one thing I'm truly grateful for, it'd be the friends I have around me. They have told me the truth, countless times over. But I would not accept it.
I had to learn things the hard way.
It's not that I did not believe he didn't love me. I think he did, in his own way, whatever way that may be. Love, like many other things in life, cannot be explained distinctly in black or white. Personally, I think it comes in shades and whatever way a person chooses to love, it's love nonetheless.
He did love me but he did it the only way he knew how to. It was a mixture of confusion, culture and culminated desires. I did not understand it back then, not even close. I knew love as many would have known it. Expectations and other traditions heavily pressed onto the word love. Had I have understood, things would have turned out different. Somewhere along the lines however, I grew impatient and he started to fumble. Unsure of what he wanted. Unsure of the responsibilities it would ensue and the expectations he would have to live up to, he let me go.
And so today, as I fight the urge to fall asleep and listen to the repetitive sounds of my music, I can only blame him for letting me go. For not having the guts to tread unknown waters. For watching me struggle so hard but not handing me a hand for fear of being sucked into the sinking sand with me. For giving up.
That is all the credit I will hand him.
