“My chipped Nail paint…”
Long gone are those days of perfection and vanity. I now have the pungent smell of saliva on my pillow.
I just woke up next to my partner and realized that those things that’d once mattered to me the most, no longer exists.
After my breakup last summer, I ended up falling for those sweet talks and long walks I used to have with Steve. One look into his mischievous hazel-brown eyes made my insides melt with desire. I was always scared of losing him as a friend. Those feelings I had for him never came in words. I just thought that Steve didn’t feel the same way.
He has always been a shy guy. Maybe, he wanted me to figure out that mysterious side of him.
I didn’t tell him about my feelings because I wasn’t ready to invest my already scarred emotions towards uncertainty. My journey never let me go closer to the person who he really was.
I just moved on with my new life and my new partner, leaving those times behind. Is that how life goes on?
I never had the time to know how things were going with him. I should have at least talked to him when he came to meet me at the railway terminal. I just waved him a good bye and left him standing there with that fake smile on his face. How could I not know what he felt for me?
How did I easily move on with my new life?
How could I have known that he was getting into self-harm? How could he do this to me?
I wept for weeks after I heard about his suicide. I still imagine his lifeless body hanging from that noose. I still see that disturbing image of his tormented eyes staring at me. I never wanted to believe it when I first heard about his death. His friends later told me that he was broke and was going through a lot of shit in his life. He would have gone through a whirlpool of emotions while penning down his last note.
I never let myself close to knowing that mysterious person who he really was. The truth is that I was filled with thoughts about shaping my future and was not able to see the love in his silence, or the pain in his deceiving eyes.
I’ve heard people say that the eyes are the mirror of a person’s soul. I now realize that those hazel-brown eyes which I loved looking into, did have some dark secrets which I had ignored.
Though that glisten which I mistook for hope is now just a part of my past, every look I take at my chipped fuchsia-colored nail paint reminds me of those good old days I had spent with him.