To the one I still love, the one that still visits my dreams at night. To the one I still think about, but this time with an ache in my heart. I wish we could’ve worked it out. I wish that there was some magic formula for us to change ourselves, for us to make it work somehow. But there is not. I love you, but you love yourself more.

I wish that you were able to see how much you mean to me. I wish that when you looked at me you could see a future, like I did with you. I wish that when you looked at me you could see love in my eyes and a goofy smile on my face, all because I was next to you. All because you were in my life. But you saw just a body. A pretty face that goes well with yours and someone to come home to when you’re lonely. I wish that you could see that I’m so much more than that.

 

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I wish that you were able to see the fire in my eyes and that you wanted to play with it. I wish that you could see that I have dreams as well. You were one of them too, you know? I wish that you could see who I am when my soul is naked. Who I am when all my walls are down, but you never really cared whether they’re still there. You only seemed to care if my body is welcoming you—my heart…not so much. But I wanted to give you so much more than my body. I wanted to share my hopes, my fears, my pain and my love with you. I wanted to share my future with you, but not at all costs.

I wish that you were able to see me. Not the me you had in your mind, the one that’s just a body and something to pass the time. Not the me that was there to fulfill your needs and make your wishes come true. But me. Me, the one that loved you as silly as girls love boys in fairy tales. As fiercely as Rose loves Jack. As deeply as Juliet loves Romeo. Me, the one that had her own story, her own history and wanted you to be a part of her future. Now, you’re nothing more than a chapter in the book of my life—while I wanted you to be with me on every page till life says, ‘The end’.

I wish there was a way we could change ourselves. I wish that there was a way that I could forget my worth, that I could forget all of the lessons I learned the hard way. I wish that I never knew what half-love looks like, but I do. And I don’t deserve it.

 

I wish that there was a way that you could love me as much as you loved yourself. That you wanted to spend time with me as much you wanted to spend it at bars. That you cared about me as much as you cared about your career. But there isn’t such a way, and I can’t keep on hoping that you’ll change. I can’t keep on having my heart broken every time you call me to tell me that you’re not coming again. I can’t keep on sleeping alone and wishing you were by my side, when I know that you’re not sleeping alone. I can’t keep on looking away, when the truth is screaming in my face.

I love the way your eyes change color in the sun and I love the way that vein pops out on your forehead when you’re worried. I love the way you hold me and I love the way you make me feel. I love your crazy passion towards life and your fire that burns as bright as mine. But I love me more. I love this crazy heart of mine—the heart you broke so many times. I love my silly emotions—the ones you neglected for too long. I love my blue eyes that are sad because of you. I love myself—the one that decided to let you go. I love me enough to not let you break me anymore.

 

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