Deluded

When I saw you that night, I imagined that you would hug me because you missed me and ask me how I've been doing. That you would thank me for what I did, reassure me that you would be there for me. 

                                               It's too bad none of those things happened.

I've searched images of black holes online. Looking at them, they are undeniably beautiful. Some of them have colours that draw you in and leave you breathless. Someone would wonder why black holes sound so scary.

             A black hole is a place in space where gravity pulls so much that even light can not get out. Black holes can also not be seen because gravity pulls all of the light into the center of the black hole.

         With all the glamour and shine, and charm and sparkle, you draw me in. And I know what will happen, I anticipate the outcome of getting too close, but I advance anyways. Maybe I’m naïve to hope that maybe this time I won’t be sucked into the center, shrouded in darkness, hopeless at escape. Somehow, I’m proved wrong every time.

Maybe I’m disillusioned, so why do I keep going back to the black hole? Should I close my eyes so I don’t see? Should I cover my ears so I can’t hear? Or should I just never speak again? I don’t want to suffocate anymore. I’m tired of trying to find my way in utter darkness. I have to find a way to be rid of you.