I used to close my eyes and picture the lovely memories I had with him. I tried doing so today, but I couldn’t. All those good times went blurry. What I saw was him holding a glass filled with ice cubes as beer overflows on his right hand and a cigarette halfway smoked on his left hand. Not a pretty picture, isn’t it?
I tried. I wish I could have saved everything. But, I failed. Now, I know why he hates me. “More than you know,” his exact words. I didn’t give him any closure and let his heart cling into something that’s not there anymore. Perhaps, it never even existed before.
At this moment, the only things I can remember are his sobs, tears, howls, rants, and vices. All of which I never have seen when we were together. True enough, I was blinded. It’s fascinating isn’t it?
It’s not that I despise people who drink and smoke. However, his drinking and smoking were just too much to handle. At first, I didn’t mind at all. I thought it was at the normal state. In moderation, should I say? Heck, I didn’t even notice when I was spending time with him. The time I started noticing was when I went away. I started receiving drunken calls, angry messages, sad sentiments – all of which I tried to make an understanding out of. But, these episodes kept on coming.
Depression – that’s something I have never dealt with before. It’s just not part of me or how I am. But with him, his depression started creeping up on me. Slowly, it crawled little by little to take me. I was the kind of person that you couldn’t force into crying even if you throw me the most brutal and cruel words. I was as sensitive as steel. Things changed when I was with him. I started crying more. Nights went by when I cried myself to sleep without even clearly knowing why. I became a wreck.
So, I had leave. I needed to save myself. I wanted to take him with me, but it was just too late. He was soaked up in that deep dark area and I don’t have the capability of rescuing him down there. As selfish as it sounds, I thought of me. Just me. “It’s now or never.” I don’t regret what I’ve done. As apologetic as I want to be, I am not. So, the only thing I can say is I understand. Now, I do.
As blurry as the memories get, it doesn’t matter as much as it did before as I can now clearly see things in a different perspective.