He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t lie to me, or much worse, cheated on me. He didn’t promise anything or gave me false hopes. He didn’t use me in a way that he was the only one benefiting the situation. He wasn’t an asshole. He respected me and he was a gentleman. He didn’t give me any reason to hate him, and yet, here I am aching for him. Here I am writing about him for the innumerable time.
I want to set this straight. You don’t have any reason to be mad at him or feel that certain urge to punch him in the face. Yes, thank you but he doesn’t deserve that. No, he wasn’t the kind of man you are all assuming about, but I wish he was. I wish he was so bad that he’d grow horns in his head or that of Pinnochio’s nose, but he wouldn’t. I’m sure of that.
We always hear stories about heartaches given by people who don’t give a fuck for someone, or okay, they do, but don’t have the balls to be the person they should be. We always feel the pain that’s inflicted by someone else whom we love or care about, and we end up moping and crying over it for a long period of time. But this one is different.
I didn’t know a heart could also ache for something too good, too beautiful, too precious. I didn’t know that people who did nothing but kindness would eventually lead me to this island of despair. He was everything that’s good for me and I can’t help but be sad over it. I wish he wasn’t so nice or that he could have treated me like how jerks do. I wish he wasn’t someone I was silently wishing for to come and rescue me from a jar empty of self-love. I wish he wasn’t someone I’m waiting for to fill me with the void I’ve been feeling for such a long time. I wish he didn’t have those beautiful round eyes that whisper I was safe with him and I wouldn’t have to worry about anything except how to grip the shot glass tighter. I wish he didn’t have second thoughts before kissing me so I could tell right then and there that he was just being a man with physiological needs. I wish he didn’t wash the shirt I left in his apartment so I could say he didn’t care at all. I wish he didn’t stop texting me and took advantage of my feelings to feed his ego just so I could have told everyone he was nothing but an asshole. But he did all of that without knowing I would fall for each little thing. He was someone I wished he wasn’t and didn’t have and it keeps breaking my heart.
He is such a nice man and it hurts because I can’t have him but I don’t have any reason to stop adoring him. This 'little' frustration gets the best of me sometimes, you know.