A story about love, betrayal, heartbreak and letting go
Thanks plenty plenty for stopping by my blog, again. This is a series dear to my heart, and I hope you follow the story as it unfolds. You can find Goodbye, Mine (Part 1) here
WHEN YOU WERE MINE.
My small but mighty, when the sun shone on you, nothing looked prettier. Such a cutie! I liked it when people said we fitted each other. Some even said we looked alike. I bet you liked it, too.
I guess we did look alike actually. We both looked nothing like our age. We both were stronger than anyone could have ever guessed. I loved how tough you were, for me.
Skies! We were so good together.
Mine, you were my ride or die.
You were mine. Mine!
I first felt it mid-last year. You were tired, tired of me.
There was a new complaint every time. I could feel us drawing apart. I tried to close the gap growing between us. Heavens know I tried. I was ready to nurse your heart back to me. You had been so good to me; I wasn’t going to lose you because you were tired of me.
No! You were mine, and I was going to fight to keep you, Mine. So I fought for us. I did all I could think of. I asked for help. I tried everything everyone suggested, but, it was all to no avail.
You weren’t even helping. It looked like you didn’t want me anymore no matter how many times I tried to make us work. I needed us to work, or so I thought. We had to work, right? Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after all these times we’ve spent together. Not with what all we’ve shared; the memories, the struggles, the breakthroughs, and the quiet moments it was just you and me against the odds of this world.
We were meant to be, Mine. That made me fight really hard.
Until… I got tired, too. I got tired of trying to salvage what once was.
Gosh! The guilt I felt that first time.
I didn’t want to, but I needed to. I needed the warmth you were no longer eager to provide. I stepped into the arms of another just for that comfort. That evening, the first time, was with the neighbor next door. You were right there in the room we shared when I went knocking on his door. When I was done with him, guilt-stricken and with a heart pounding so loud, I walked back into our room with the evidence of me cheating clutched in my hand.
But, you didn’t even care. You just sat on the bed ignoring the proof of my unfaithfulness. I thought knowing what I had done would elicit a reaction from you, any reaction. But nothing. You remained distant.
It hurt that you didn’t care.
What happened to us, Mine? How did we get here?
I wanted badly for us to work things out but all I got were more complaints. You never ran out of those. There was a new problem of different colors almost every moon. You kept drifting away.
It got tiring to keep fighting all by myself.
“Were you tired too?”
“Were you tired of me? Of us?”
“Why didn’t you fight for me, Mine? For us?”
Few months ago, you made me cry for the first time. You knew how much it meant to me, yet you lost it. I cried till there were no more tears to shed, and then, I fell asleep. Barely a week after that, it happened again. You did it again. This time, I was too irked to cry. Something snapped in me. I felt no more pain. I was used to being hurt, by you.
I loved you, Mine.
Even though you hurt me so much I was too numb to feel pain, I still loved you.
Even though I was too tired of fighting for us, I still loved you.
Even though I still loved you, I kept on cheating.