Posted in Thoughts

Run, Clever Boy, and Remember

This is how you will remember me:
An excited glint in my eyes as I launched into a long rant about this amazing thing pop culture has cooked up.
Animatedly arguing with you as we got into another heated discussion about whatever topic catch our fancy.
But mostly rambling about this movie that I’m going to make you watch because how can you miss that one???

This is how you will remember me:
Laughing breathlessly as you poke my sides despite knowing very well how ticklish I am.
Wrapping my arms around your neck with your hands on my waist as we sway to yet another cheesy song you played.
And smiling softly as I watched you explain your train of thoughts, memorising your gestures.

This is how you will remember me:
Sobbing with tear-stained face as I disclose my insecurities and venomous thoughts.
Wrapping my arms around you and whispering soothing words to calm you down when you’re falling apart.
Or just holding on to each other because we were both scared, broken, and consumed by our demons.

This is how you will remember me:
Always intertwining our fingers and shamelessly displaying my affection regardless of time and place.
Tucked safely in your embrace and stealing soft kisses as we wait for sleep to claim us.
And reluctantly part with an embrace or kiss that would never suffice.

 

And this is what you will remember most:
My incoherent high-pitched rambling every time I got high on on endorphin.
Blushing madly and trying to sulk everytime you sing a cheeky song even though I adore it so bad.
And flailing wildly when you confessed your heart, willing my traitorous throat to work so I can reply in kind.

 

 

 

 

But, my dear darling, this is how you will not see me.
Lying in bed with my own fingers wrapped tightly around my throat, vainly attempting to squeeze the air out of my lungs and knock myself out of this constant state of emotional pain.
Wishing I could wrench my still beating heart out of its resting place or blast a hot lead through my skull.
Wishing I could just bleed so this agony could seeped out of me and the weight of your absence no longer suffocate me.

 

 

 

 

 

À la mort,

I was right, you are not around to see the damage you’ve inflicted.

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Author:

An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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