All I wanted was for you to fight for me. For you to tell me the truth when you felt that something was wrong. For you to be honest about how you felt about us.

Since the beginning, I wanted us to work. And you know, deep down in your heart, that I am telling the truth.

I loved who we were back then. I loved how we fit into each other’s arms. How we moulded into each other, like how everything just made sense. And I loved the you who loved me so unconditionally.

There are times when I think about what we had, and this sometimes makes me want to get back to how we used to be. To get back to the start of it all. To get back to that late August when you awkwardly introduced yourself to me. To get back to the shy smiles and bashful glances that we would steal of each other. To the giggly text messages we would send.

I want to go back to the nights where we would just lie in bed and listen to our hearts beat in rhythm together. I want to go back to the times when our love was young and giddy. I want to go back to the moments when everything seemed new to us. To the time you held me and told me you loved me, with the storm raging outside.

Back to where we were – the start.

But I also want to go back to when things were difficult. To when our fights got uncomfortable and strained. To when we screamed to make things work. To when we tried to love when it was difficult to love.

To when everything went south, and we didn’t even know how it happened or why it did.

I want to go back to the moment when you called it off. To the time you told me that you no longer had the energy to fight for us. To the time you told me that I was the best you’ve ever had but had to let me go. I want to have the courage to question you, and make you squirm. I want to make you think about what you really wanted instead of just making the impulsive decision that you did. I want to make you regret your decision to tear me apart.

You received me whole but you left me broken.

Sometimes I think – was I not enough for him? Was I not pretty enough? Was I too quirky, weird and loud? Was I not fit enough or skinny enough? Was I not fluent enough in Korean? What was wrong with me?

But then I have to remind myself about how it all panned out. How everything blew up. How everything was a mess when shit hit the fan. How all this time, there was an elephant in the room that we refused to address. No. It wasn’t me. And I will not listen to the demons in my head. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me at all. It was you.

You were the one who did not fight. You were the one who did not tell me what you wanted. You are the one who did not give me a chance. You were the one who did not try – try to make it better; try to make things work and smooth out all the wrinkles.

I gave you every chance. I gave you every second that we were together  to tell me what you wanted; to tell me what you needed; to tell me what was wrong. But you kept your lips sealed. You stayed without wanting to fix things.

And then it was over. And you were gone.

You just gave up. You gave up when I needed you most. You gave up when I loved you the most. You gave me up and you gave ‘us’ up. And for what? I’ll never know the truth.

All I wanted was for you to try. To fight. To work.
And you could not even do that.

Don’t worry darling. Although I’m broken and torn, just give me time and soon I believe I’ll be over you.