"what do you aspire to be?" they asked. "I aspire to be a writer. To write a story about the two of us, where at least we ended up together."
I was laughing out loud, trying to overthrow the voices in the background.
"Is she your girl?" they asked. I felt a little sting in my chest, while my back was facing the two of you. I felt her stare when the question was asked.
Like she was waiting for some reaction from me. Like she knew something about what we used to be. But I kept my act together like I was not paying attention to the two of you at all.
I was laughing with the others, talking about something else. But little did he know, they kept running on my mind the whole time.
I wanted to cry, let all these feelings come out. Let all the pain be felt once and for all. But I know that I have no right. I am happy for you. For the both of you.
Believe it or not, I am. I just can't help but to feel this way. To feel hurt, sad, and unwanted. I loved every bit of you, and I still do, despite all the pain, you made me feel.
I am trying to answer the question I wanted to ask you, "how can you make me love you this deep? Like you threw my heart in the abyss."
I can't help but glance your way, your back facing mine, but I can feel how genuine is your smile for her. I feel so jealous, so insecure. You were never like that with me before.
And everything I wished and prayed for was given to her.
I lied to my friends, I lied being ok that night. But then, I wanted to cry and shout, complain about the pain you have caused me.
It felt like I was stabbed in the chest so deep I couldn't pull it out, and I couldn't do anything but smile.
Show and tell them I'm fine. That it's fine, about you being with her. I wanted you to be happy because that's what you deserve.
But it hurts, that it can't be with me, that I can't have something I prayed for sincerely.
"I aspire to be a writer, to write the story of us where we ended up together. But why does it seem like I can't think of any? Like fate itself doesn't want me to write...
"I aspire to be a writer, to write the story of us where we ended up together. But why does it seem like I can't think of any? Like fate itself doesn't want me to write... Can't I have you too at the world I made? A world too far from reality to happen."