I wish I can describe how I am feeling right now.
But there is nothing.
And I supposed this is because the subject matter is either unidentifiable or wholly absent.
But I know…
My presence at your darkest hour is not a persuasive enough reason to capture your heart.
I guess there is no meaning to all the time spent on the midnight calls and the incessant messages.
Nor is there meaning to all the enthusiasm and anticipation about your news, except for the fact that those were just immature acts of desperation.
It’s funny how you reserved those tears solely for me, as if I don’t matter, as I am an emotionless being. The truth is, my heart ached when I saw you in that pathetic state.
I am giving up.
I am letting go.
Because you need to understand that words do not wipe away the tears, fingers do.