Sitting on the top of my drawer, I can see a bouquet of flowers.

It’s wilting.

Most of it has turned grey or brown; losing its beautiful arrangement of colors it once has.

I should have taken better care of them. Give them what they need immediately after I got it from you. Maybe if I did, we wouldn’t be apart like this.

Because I wonder if the speed of those flowers wilting is connected to the diminishing love you have for me. If I should have noticed from the beginning just by looking at those flowers; and try to preserve it as best as I can.

How long, I wonder, have you been losing your feelings towards me? While I was acting like a fool drowning myself in my love towards you. Thinking everything is fine. Happily losing myself in my own ‘what-ifs’ of the future with you.

I’m tired.
We were full of “love” for each other. I can feel that. Everyone who sees us can feel that.

Love?

That was what I felt when we were together. Blessed by each other’s presence, each day as beautiful as yesterday as we talk and laugh together at the silliest little things.

But now, that you left?

I don’t know if what I’m feeling right now can even be called love anymore. It’s something much more sinister.

Anger? Sadness? Confusion? Hate?

Hollowness?

All I know is that all of these emotions are being mixed inside of me, like some evil witch from somewhere is laughing her ass off inside my chest, mixing the deadliest poison she can create from the sheer negativeness of it.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It’s suffocating. My chest hurts. I want to cry, but I can’t even shed a single tear right now.

Was it really love then?

Hell if I know.