the day of

The things I want to say to you, but it's not my place, not anymore. It feels cliché to write this, but I feel okay. It's a reminder that it's not you nor the circumstances. I was young and I just needed a way out, sometimes I get overwhelmed. Most of the happenings of that day I have forgotten, but I wrote something, a note much similar in nature to the one you are reading, and I took off on my bicycle.

You were the intervention. I saw you that day, when I took off, and I felt as though I have seen you before. The whole ride away your face kept appearing in my mind, and not until about the night time did I feel as though I need to know. Why? With no food or money, and the note laying at my desk, this was the end. Those were the conditions set by me, so I don't chicken out. I slept the whole night at the bus stop and thought of the ways of getting to you. Yes, I sold my bike and yes I got scammed, but no one was buying it so. I came back and when I stepped into the class next week, you were there in my class. I knew I had seen you before.

Probably you'll read this the day of . It feels as though you are here with me and still I cannot see. It's odd that every moment goes, avoiding to comprehend the hurt I've caused, to you and to the others. Normally I don't think about that, but as I am here. Self centered, egotistical, all the things I don't want to be, I turn out to be.

I can tell you how much I loved you, or the things I can confess unknown to this world, only I get to have. Yet the only thing I can think of now is that it doesn't matter anymore. There will be no you, and that hurts.