An Ode To The Red Leaves
I will continue to put other people first without betraying myself.
It has been 319 days since we see each other. The silence that you once left has become more epidemic and less episodic. I have always felt that the void you left to justify your leave is not as scary as the thought of it lingering when you bid your farewell. There is nothing more destroying than a raw thought, you once convinced me, spreading your arms— professing yourself as my saviour while you are nothing if not absent. You said you cheated but there is a big chunk of me that believes that you are actually trying to save yourself, you said you went overboard for our sake and that you swallow your pride to make amends, but how is it that I am the one drowning in our presence?
The people around me did not know. They may claim that they do but they truly do not. They may said they care but they do claim to care about dozen other things and how much of their space are reserved for me? They may argue it is unfair to them but they were the one claiming things I constantly never asked upon. You see, humans are not genuine. We are wired for empathy because it gives us a feeling of things that we could gone through. The notion that we do things for others are so comically outdated that being overused becomes somewhat an understatement.
I lied, it has not been 319 days. We meet each other last night. I heard you through the unsaid and the unheard as they keep convincing me that the destruction of my own self by my own conscience has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Sometimes, my sanity gives me false alarms in an equivocally false hope that I would listen. I whisper to myself through vibrations of my own skull that leads to my brain in every false alarm that even in your loudest screams I would never call the police and let you win. And most times, I ended up calling anyway.
Though it does not mean that I would continue on being selfish. People fuel themselves differently and I found the nutrients I need within my pain. My pain yields in people I put first before I give even the littlest ounce of shit possible to myself. Youth culture is romanticising self harm but somehow endorses heavily against self deprivation. We constantly put ourself first and talking about doing so but boy have we forget how little of us is actually doing as such. Often I heard somebody says people pleaser receives the least amount of joy and jumped to the next the say givers earn as much as they give so I call the fuck out of them to stood their fucking grounds or at least leaps to one.
There seems to be an incrementally moving point in which I found myself falling in too young to people. People around us causes us pain but they also constantly provides us with compassion. Also, love is a silly word to use.
