I try to hide in the crowd, hoping no one would notice. I look at the window pane, and all I see is the past beyond the fog. The past hurts, but I keep it all inside. The rain continues to pour as the crowd disperses, and I’m left all alone in the room filled with nothing but empty memories that linger.
This loneliness that I feel without your hand in mine, is like a game of chess I play with myself.
Life strangles time, and I never have a moment to sit down and write to you. When I look up, you are already gone. This moment hurts, and I'm trying my best to go back to the way things used to be before.
I try to write down the feelings that I never had a chance to express. I know that there are things you dreamt of when you were young, and you saw them crushed in the time you were with me. That was my mistake.
It wasn’t until afterwards that I finally understood, when I flipped through the letters that you wrote. I finally saw the fatigue and many tears you cried because of me.
And it hurts me that I hurt you so much.
I am not worthy of your presence.