The Worst

"I'll hate you forever!"

"You're the worst!"

That's what she told me. Her voice shaking from a mixture of anger and sadness. Her tears running down her face. Her cousin went to my dorm, begging me to fix this relationship that already crumbled down. As if she knew what was going on. But she wasn't the only one. People around me... they told me I needed to fix this. That she was perfect for me. That I was being.... well you name it:

A jerk...

An asshole...

Insensitive...

Uncaring...

Honestly I couldn't care less. That's what I hate most about love. No... not about love but the people who think they know about love.

They think that love needs to overcome all obstacles, no matter what. They think that love means not giving up. They think that love means sacrificing, even to the point of losing oneself inside a relationship. But that's not love, that's stupidity.

Does she like me? 

Definitely.

Does she care for me? 

Absolutely.

Will she let her whole self be taken away for my sake?

She would.

But does she love me? 

No. 

No she does not.

I remembered our first meeting. She was so quiet and so was I. She was so mysterious. The girl with long black hair. Hiding her lips whenever she smiles. Avoiding my eyes as much as possible. She was beautiful. Radiating with life that doesn't burst out, but lets you gently feel its warmth. She would sing songs, nervously, and I would listen to the most heartwarming melody I ever heard. That was the woman I fell for.

We started dating. Going out. I even slept with her. Just literally slept on the same bed. No touching of any private parts. No undressing. We just cuddled together, and it felt so much better than being naked on bed with someone who enjoyed your body as much as you enjoyed hers.

We went to stores late at night to eat cupped noodles. We lied on the grass watching the stars, trying to imitate some cheesy romance movie, but ended up realizing it was itchy as hell so we stood up quickly. I learned to play the guitar and the piano so she could sing to any song she wants when we are together. We stayed late at night, talking to each other over the phone. It was as good as it could get. And that's just what it was... as good as it could get; cause what happened next wasn't so lovely.

Did anything drastic happen? Did a third person disturb the relationship? Did the circumstances change? No, not at all. The only thing that changed was how I saw things. It always happens. Over and over, in any and all of my relationships. Everything. Just. Turns. Cold.

We did the same things. Went to the same places. Yet everything felt different. I saw how she would obey me. How she would do anything just to secure our relationship. Then I realized...there were times when I abused this honest heart of hers. There were even times when she cried her heart out even if the problem was me and not her. 

For the first time, I saw what this relationship really was. It was nothing but possession. A bond made out of need, not out of love. I loved her, truly I did. But as time went on, this love died out on me 'cause I saw what was unfolding. I was turning into the cold manipulator I have always been. Making her do things that looks fun for me. Making her cry when I'm pissed off. Making her jealous of women, whom I only entertained for the sole purpose of making her jealous. And she stayed, nevertheless. She couldn't let go of me. She would hold on, as long as I promised to hold on. Why? Because I became a drug for her. Something she'd die without. We both benefited out of the relationship. But love? Love died a long time ago.

She couldn't see it but I did. So I ended things. Not through text. No. She didn't deserve such a crappy ending. I went to her dorm, told her the biggest lie. About me having sex with other women and about me never caring for her.

For the first time. My emotions came rushing back. There she was. Crumbling right before my eyes. She needed me. All it would take was for me to wrap my arms around her and say I'm sorry and all will be forgiven. As if this whole scene never happened in the first place... but it's exactly because of this that I needed to stay away from her. I was her drug.

"You're lying!"

"You're lying!"

She told these words over and over. And I told her to slap me if that would make her feel any better.

"No."

"Stay."

"Please."

"Don't.... don't leave me."

I couldn't say anything. I just zipped my mouth and stood there. Because I might say something stupid that would destroy this moment that took all my courage to build. I stood there... as long as I could. I needed to share this moment with her, to witness the pain she feels. That's the least that I could do.

When she was finally on the floor. Both hands covering her face as she continues to cry. My instincts told me all the more to go to her. But I did the opposite. I walked out of the room, never looking back...

Days and months passed. I saw how she died. Over and over. How she tried to fix herself up, only to find herself breaking down again. But I knew she was strong. She needed to be... because I'm never coming back. All her friends and all of mine still bug me to, at least be friends with her. But I won't do that. Not in this lifetime. Because a piece of her heart has already been carved out for me. And if I come near enough, just to be within her reach, and if I get stuck within those wonderful eyes of hers. Then this cycle would only repeat. Ending the same way it did.

I didn't need to return. I needed to go as far away from her as possible. I'm a drug she doesn't need cause all I'll be doing is destroy the wonderful woman I fell in love with. In the end, what she says might actually be true. I really am...the worst.