05-11-2015. [2]

She said it. Again.

“You’re free to leave at any time.”

I don’t understand why she said it. She knows exactly well that I won’t leave her.

is it because she feels that there’s no guarantee that she will recover?
Or maybe is it because she feels that she’s torturing me with her condition right now?
Or maybe it’s both.

I asked her if she really doesn’t care with me leaving her, with me turning my back on her and never come back.
She didn’t answer.
But with that silence, I think I already know the answer.
She don’t want me to leave her. But she’s also afraid.
It’s complicated.
I’m not trying to be smartass, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening with her.

Oh, how I wish I could capture what’s in my head right now.
I’ve sketched it in a piece of paper hours ago.
But.. It’s too ugly to be uploaded.
I’ll just describe what’s inside my head.
This is how I’m imagining her heart looks right now :

A huge circular room with many doors.
Almost all the doors are closed, locked, and barred.
The word “Fear” engraved on the wooden door bar.

One door is slightly open.
Its size, its colour is quite different from the others.
It is labeled with the word “Family”.

Near almost every closed door,
there’s glass shards scattered on the floor.
Someone broke it before they went out.
Next to those shards, there’s a label,
crumpled paper with “Trust” written on it.

There are bloody footprints everywhere.
She must have stepped on the shards when she barred those doors.

She retreated, sitting alone in the middle of the room.
Trying to pull out the shards from her soles.
She’s crying.
Her body shaking from the excruciating pain.

Few meters from her back,
Two dusty bubble-wrapped glass spheres are laid on the floor.
The spheres are labeled with “Trust” and “Love”.
Those are mine. I gave it to her.

Beside the spheres, there’s a dusty heart-shaped pillow.
Coloured in purple. Her favourite colour.
My name is embroidered on the pillow.
It’s my heart.

My door to her heart is closed.
I’m sitting outside the door,
clutching tight a bubble-wrapped glass sphere labeled with “Trust” with my left arm.
and another bubble-wrapped glass sphere labeled with “Love” with my right arm.
Those are hers. She gave it to me.
I’m trying to call her, and slowly whispering love to her.
But all I could hear is her sobbing.
And nothing else.

She’s afraid to open her door for me.
Afraid of betrayal, of broken trust.
Afraid that I might do the same thing as those people did.
Afraid to see another shards scattered.


Dear Love,

Let me go in and tend your wounds.
All wounds hurt, but they will heal.
Scars will remain, but don’t let them stop you.
Scars are only reminders of who we were, what we’ve been through.
Don’t ignore what your heart feels deep inside.

I know it hurts so bad.
But try to start walking.
First step is always the hardest.
But don’t give up.
Open your door for me.

Don’t be afraid, remember all the moments we have.
I’m here only to love you,
to make you happy for the rest of your life.
And nothing else.
Have faith.





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