And you, my dear, are my biggest lie.
Because we build our castle on pillars of sand and thrive on strings of half-truth.
And while we might actually be in love, truth is we merely fell for carefully arranged facets of each other.
So when the ugly veracities came in tidal waves, we drowned with no chance of staying afloat.
Isn’t it ironically fitting, then, the way we ended?
There were no goodbyes exchanged, nor screaming contest to let out the rage and hurt we’ve been hiding inside.
There were no fights and bitter separation, nor arrangement of peaceful parting.
We just drifted apart and ceased to be, like a worn out lie being forgotten once it’s no longer useful.
Because we were nothing but a well built fiction, my dear Atlas. Tales and lies woven together to form one intricate deception.
For when I tell you that I’m okay with the idea of sharing you, or that I don’t mind waiting for you, I was lying through my teeth.
And you should’ve known better. You know, after all, that I’m a selfish person by nature and how I can’t stand uncertainty. You know that better than most.
While I know how evasive and immature you could be, even when you promised that you’ll always come back to me no matter what.
But everything was so easy with you, and things fall to places like it has always meant to be.
So maybe we did turn a blind eye and let the lull of temporary peace deceived ourselves.
Because the sweet reprieve was good while it lasted.
Even if we’ve got nothing but faded memory to recount it now.
À la mort,
This is long overdue, but I figure a proper goodbye is in order.
