solipsistic drivelings.

Three, four, seven days, weeks, and even months and not a single thought  of you crosses my mind, and sometimes, I wonder, when that happens, when you forget to think about that person, you are still in love with him, right? I told you I will always love you and if there comes a time when you start feeling that nobody does, remember that there's one person-- I, who would never stop. But what happens when you start doubting that love, when it becomes a parody of what came to pass between your mom and dad? What happens when that person tears your heart apart? Do you stop?

And how does it feel like, to stop loving someone? One moment you love her, the next you don't because of something she does. Is that even possible? Where does the feeling go? Does it go away abruptly or does it slowly drift away in bitter bits and pieces each time the memory of the pain, the betrayal, resurfaces, until it is no more? I may be wrong, but I think not. Love-- it never goes away. Might take another form, but it's not going anywhere other than where it inhabits the atria, the ventricles, flows with the blood, the circuit. The heart beats, keeping it alive.

But I know I never should have promised you that I will always love you, even though I know in my heart that that is true...

I shouldn't have promised, because we never know what might come up, what possible hurt we can inflict to the one we love, no matter how we resist and I know I shouldn't have done it and I love you but it's confusing because if I had been loving you at that moment, I wouldn't have done that terrible thing and now it's breaking your heart to pieces and it is my audacity and my selfishness that keeps me from losing what is left of what I have-- your heart and even if you have done something that would hurt the one you love, you could still be loving them, right?

I love you. There's no simpler way to say that. Moving on-- it just won't happen. Nobody who truly loved-- I mean, loves gets past the moving on shit.

It has been, what, two, three years? You are but a mannequin with that perpetual smile on your face and a stone where your heart was.