I don’t get it. You confuse me. In fact, the word ‘confuse’ is but a tiny piece of the picture and can and may never totally encapsulate the effect you have on my mental. There comes a point when I say ‘enough is enough’ and I tell myself that I will close the door and walk away, never to look back. But then you do the things you do and then there I am, with you, once more, back to square one. How do you do it? Who gave you this power? You have penetrated the bricks I so carefully laid to protect my delicate mind. And now one by one, they fall to the ground, my willpower a mere dust. I don’t know how you do it. But it must be that you possess the magic of Aphrodite and Eros. And you use this charm to coat each word that proceeds from your lips and make even strong girls weak in the knees. And you don’t stop there. You take residence in my mind. Maybe that’s why I think you are home.
You don’t get it. Do I confuse you? Is it so hard to see? Can it be made any clearer? Dropping hints is tiring. Day in, day out. And yet something tells me that you do see. But you turn your eyes away. You don’t let your heart feel. And yet I still continue to knock at your heart’s door in hopes that you will let me in and let us talk about it but you’ve stopped your ears from hearing me out, right? Because you don’t want to listen because that’s what would complicate the already complicated. And so there’s me again, in my own book that I wrote, in a chapter of unrequited love. Funny how I lost control of the writing. Once you invaded my mental, you stole my pen and now I can’t write anything but you and you over and over again. You pulled a plot twist on me. As crazy as it seems, I let you do it. I sat and watched you go through. Saw you brought her in, wrote her name over all the pages of your heart and erased mine before the story even got a start. How did you do it? You shuffled the cards in the deck. I was no Joker but you thought you found your Queen and who could tell you otherwise? You didn’t like the card, me, that you were dealt and so you changed the game. Instead of money, you gambled my heart. And life as it was, will never be the same. Except for one thing. I’m still knocking on your heart’s door. Waiting for you to hear me out. But you’re still seated in Infatuation’s Casino, and I, well I am the blackjack.
But today, I’ll get up from the table. I have stood by the window and watched Time run away. I know that I cannot just return to sitting down. Because sitting down is like attending my heart’s funeral. I have grown tired. Tired of hoping things will change. Tired of hoping that maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t seen those. Maybe then I’d still have hope. But Hope had left me in that room a long time ago but I was too keen on the game to notice. I have tried to erase the memories and the ‘good times’. I beg Time to take me back to that dreadful day so I could play my cards differently. Yet I know I can’t blame anyone but myself. I sat at the table knowing what would be served. I wore the dress with my heart on my sleeves. Hope was with me then. But even Hope runs away when Reality steps in.