i. You ask me how I’m doing and we both know there’s no way I’d ever answer that without lying. You say love isn’t made for people like us— we’re too rational for it. I tell you that I’m a secluded person, I chase the people that hate me. I don’t know why I do it, but I do it. You tell me you know I’ve been crying these past few days and I fall apart. all over again. We’re sitting on the opposite sides of a small room and you’re moving closer please don’t. I smell like I’ve just taken a cold shower and you know I’m sick, we’re both foolish. I’m arrogant and selfish and I don’t love you but how could I. We make mug cakes and get back to our places, comers of the room. You take out a cigarette and I’m pissed. There are screams, I hear a baby crying in the hallway of your apartment. I’ve removed everything that had residues of you and I’m stuck. I’ve been in the same place for months. I thought you were dying. We’re both fighting, voices overlapping, thoughts scattered, talk about true love. You said you wouldn’t do this, not again, no. You never told me you loved me. You talk about getting drunk and setting the world on fire. You tell me that all trees are dead bodies. I wrote you a letter because you were away and I couldn’t breathe. You ask me if l’d ever fall in love with you and I say no. Girls like me are meant to perish and our funerals have open caskets. We always run from human interaction. You tell me to call you every time I feel alone but do dead bodies pick up calls? I say okay and move on, fighting with you never worked, never will. You tell me all the world is stupid and we should become filthy rich and drive around because our parents could never. You tell me about how I’m still alive and I know I’m alive but every minute I spend with you I collapse into a thousand different worlds. The world collapses. I’m dying. We’re both dying. This world is dying.
ii. You ask me how I’m doing and I know we’re both too scared of this conversation. Our love story is the tale of a man who died during war. Through clenched fists and broken ribs, we’re fighting each other, only to fall in love with each other. The place I’m living in is decaying, I’m decaying. The walls have mould on them and they aren’t as stable anymore. You tell me love is a lie, and I’m trying to tell you that it isn’t and not everything good is a lie. And suddenly, I can’t trust myself because I’m lying and two lies don’t make a truth. I’m telling you how I’m breaking apart each day and you tell me, they lied about everything. The man who died in the war didn’t sacrifice himself, instead chose to run away from the pent up guilt inside himself. The easiest way to die. The other day I woke up screaming and I couldn’t fathom the thought of losing you. It scares me, everything scars me. I’m telling you how I love you and I’m waiting for you to say it back but you can’t. You’ve always hated love, haven’t you? I’m trying to help you and you’re telling me love isn’t enough. There’s this weight on my chest and I have to confess, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take life anymore. It’s heavy and this heaviness is drowning me in a world that’s collapsing. I’ve been meaning to ask you, do you hate me? Tell me it’s all in my head, tell me this world isn’t really on fire and tell me you’d tolerate it, even if it was. I’m scared that one day on the terrace you’re going to ask me how I’ve been doing and I’d break down then because I’ve never really been okay. I could swear, a year ago we were perfect. In my dream, you’re by my side and my love language is always too scared to love. On some days I am the tale of the man and on some days, I am the man.
- Meet the Author
- Latest Posts