I’m happy that you’re happy,
I’m happy that you’re with her,
I’m happy that we’re just friends,
I’m happy that we are nothing more but memories.
How many times could I say this until it becomes true?
Once, twice, or thrice, or more.
I’m happy that I am truthful,
Even when in reality I am not.
I’m only okay but not great,
I’m only fine and I don’t hate,
If your happiness comes in packages like her,
I will not show you the sadness that I bear.
I will not deny you of happily ever after,
Even when it means I will not have my own.
And if you smile because of her,
Then I shall smile because you are.
"I will only say the ‘l’ word if you tell me first."
"The ‘l’ word?"
"Hmm, and if I never say it?"
"Never is such a bold word."
"And telling me that you will only say the word if I say it first is a bold move."
"Because telling you that is not the only way for you to know that. I can make you feel it, I can show you what it is, I can make you taste it and remember it."
"But then, again, if I never say it?"
"Then the word shall die with me. Even in my last dying breath, I will not say it and you will lose the chance to hear such beautiful word coming from my lips."
You are offered reprieve for the thoughts in your head and yet anger wins, stewing in the mixed negativity churning in your whole body.
The frustration builds, the sadness seemingly endless, the anxiety of what is to come, and the disappointment of what had passed.
The perfect ingredients for a suicidal soul.
The blade looks tempting.
The pills looks like candies.
The poison turning into nectar at the touch of your lips.
What an interesting mind you have, turning off the joy and waking up the world with your anguished cries.
That is only if they hear what they have always ignored.
It’s easy for someone to say, “You like me? Why? I’m nothing, I’m no one.” without ever realizing that they’re basically telling you you have no taste, you suck at picking someone and you’ve fallen in love or fallen in like with an insensitive bastard/bitch.