Paint

Enough. I’ve had it. You know what? You’re lucky. You’re lucky that people never judged you. Because you were the “victim” and people always liked you to begin with. This happened before, but it was because of her. I was always the one to blame when a problem arises. Why? Simple, because I don’t show how affected I am. But you? Both of you did the same thing, and that was to show people how hurt you were. You’re afraid of hurting me? You know what? You’ve done nothing but that just by showing how you feel. But that’s fine. Because I am the “cause” and you are the “victim”, right?

When you said to give you some space, I did. We were strangers that time. You know what? I’d rather be a stranger to you than play this game of “friends”. To be honest, I had doubted you when you said we were “friends” because it was so obvious that you didn’t want to. Even so, I still believed we’d somehow go back to how the way things used to be. But like I once said, “it can not be”.

I envy you. When you changed because of this fiasco, people accepted it. Because you were the “victim”. Since I was the “cause”, people thought ill of me. And you know it’s been a month, a damn month now since that happened even so, people still talk about it. For example, someone’s ask.fm? And no, it’s not only yours. What more did I find out? You’ve removed me from your friends list on Facebook. One word. Coward. If you want to get away from me that much, say it in my face. Let’s be real, you hate me. No, you despise me. Like what I said, you are the “victim” and I am the “cause”. We’ve always been an opposite of each other, don’t you think?

I have my limits, and thus far, I’m pretty much ready to explode. Even if I suddenly disappear, no one would care- yes? If you’re a coward than I’m a hypocrite. Fear can be healed but not hypocrisy. I’m tired of crying myself to sleep. I’m tired of calling random people at some ungodly hour just to have someone listen to me cry. I’m tired of trying to get things back to the way it used to be.  I’m tired of pretending that I’m strong. I’m tired of how ill people think of me. I’m tired of crying while writing this. I’m tired of giving a damn. I’ll throw you back a question you’ve once asked me, “What do YOU want?”. I want to paint my world with red and have my peace, but before that, watch me turn into something else.

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