According to my calculator,
I’ve spent 19 million seconds loving you. About 3.6 million in you promised me you’d never hurt me, 4.3 million in you told me you loved me, and 4.5 million seconds in you said you regretted it.
Kinda crazy how it took 1 second for you to say...
“I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.” 1 second to ruin all the seconds before it, with an apology that left me drowning in the lifeboat you threw to me, unaware of the gaping hole in its floor.
How can that one second loom over me still?
When the time before the 4.5 millionth second, when you loved me back, feels like a distant memory of another life? Makes me question everything I’ve ever been taught about time...
But I guess our universe doesn’t take “I don’t want to have feelings because one way or another I’ll mess things up. I mess everything up. It’s my thing,” into consideration.
The clocks say it’s been 14.5 million seconds since you ended our story, but I’m still stuck in the second in which I knew it was over, the second that stretches out even as the clocks move on.
It grasps at my neck, pushing me under while I claw at its arms, begging for another breath, another second, stuck on the precipice of the 4.5 millionth second of us.
The clocks read 1:00 am, but I just see 4.5 million seconds.
1:03 am. 4.5 million seconds. 1:05 am. 4.5 million seconds
The calendar says the months go by as I wait for 4.5 million and one, but if I’m honest with myself I’m just waiting to tell you the only mistake you made was being so scared you'd make one.
But the clocks say it’s been over for 14.5 million seconds..
And I wouldn't know how to tell you if I tried.
3.6 million seconds.
“The last thing I’ll ever want to do is hurt you.”
4.3 million seconds.
“Rydw i’n caru ti.”
4.5 million seconds.
“I think we should take a break.”
I’m still waiting for the break to be over.