When I needed the quiet of the comfort of my loneliness, you were so loud with your love. Shamelessy loud it's burning what's already dead-cold deep inside me.
Maybe I'm not used to the noise of being cared for.
Maybe the sound of someone wanting, needing, and valuing me is so foreign that my body rejects it almost instantaneously without trepidation — without trepidation that I might lose all these for good.
I lied. Okay, maybe a little. Maybe a lot. But the heck, I'm used to this emotionless shithole... being morosely alone...
I'm contented with this mere existence like a melancholic sonata no one wants to listen to.
Living is exhausting. Dreaming is a task. You lead a life with purpose. I don't even know what the hell I am doing here! — much more find meaning in us.
Your smile brings joy to the — not my walled world. My depressed soul won't allow you.
I lied again. You brought me pure brightness that I never thought I would experience. You're like an alcohol, a pain killer to my hurts. An accidentally-found playlist to unintentionally overcome my woes.
Being with you, slowly, I was healing. And that's why this had to immediately stop because when one day you leave — the way everyone does — it would hurt some more.
The more I drink of your goodness to numb my aches now, time will come when morphine will not even have an effect on me and I will be in agony until I die like a mad person who have forgotten to play an instrument he once was passionate about.
"We are not even done with how our melody and our lyrics would end up sounding. It might be the best there is!" You said.
But I am no talented musician. I am just a selfless lunatic singing not a tune.
Well, there goes another unfinished song that the universe will never get to hear.
I'm not sorry I hurt you.
Fuck, this is the third time I lied! Forgive me for causing you sorrow. Actually, don't. I deserve to be a "D minor", the saddest key ever... to be punished even.
All the more I am asking sorry to myself for rejecting all the love and the beautiful music you had and could have brought to my problematic being.
And now, above this ostensible tinnitus, wondering if you were ever real or not, whether I ever deserved your wonders or not, I pondered, "Was I wrong to unhear the beauty of your song just because my heart is deaf from its past pains?"
