Took a whole lot of pleading for her to come back. Looking back, I couldn’t help but ask, why she had to take so much of me for a mistake I wasn’t even a part of—but my young heart didn’t mind.
Holy Week 2014, he left without warning. This wasn’t the first--of him leaving. But this was the worst. And with my countless recollection of him and her leaving, I can’t remember a moment I feared more than this. I knew bad days have started coming. But it wasn’t the bad days that shook me. I’ve grown resilient to the bad. She hasn’t. The bad broke her bad. That. Broke. Me. Bad.
He left without warning. I couldn’t believe he did. I didn’t want to believe he did. The pain was a slap on my face--the kind that stings because it came by extreme surprise. The kind that stings even after the physical pain have long worn out. I was caught off guard. And it took a long time to regain my balance.
It has been the biggest fight of our lives since. And I don’t see it being over soon. Maybe, not ever.
Holy Week 2015. She’s leaving again. Says she wants to run away. Says she needs the break. Won’t say where she’s going. Won’t say when she’s coming back or if she’s coming back. This sick carousel is getting kinda old now.
They say the apple won’t fall far from the tree. I say for someone born to two people who’ve mastered the art of leaving through the years, I am one peculiar offspring--because I have proven in more ways than one, I’m never the one who just leaves. I am the love who stays.
They can come and go, if it pleases them. I won’t hold them back even if it takes so much of me each time. Simply because I am the love who stays. Simply because I’ll always be the love who stays.