An open letter to the one who keeps on breaking my heart

I write you proses but he writes you more beautiful ones. I create you stories but he lives it with you. I’ve been trying my best to befit your standards but as I give it my all, he exerts no effort to make you love him the way I’ve always wanted you to love me. 

Mi amore, my love, I am nothing as compared to him. He’s been with you from the day I went away and I despise myself for doing so. Since then, you’ve gone places. I wish it was me sharing cold feet inside your blankets. I wish it was me making you laugh. I wish it was me you choose, you live for, you love with. 

Jealousy is the right term to describe how I feel towards the both of you. In as much as I wouldn’t like to think maliciously, I just couldn’t help myself but do so. You claim you are plain friends. Okay... but your actions say otherwise. Isn’t it that you were always available for him? And when you do, it feels like nothing can stop you from knowing each other more. I can sense it the way you look when you are together. My intuition isn’t as superb as the others but I know it can be accurate at times. And I trust it most of the time. And what hurts more is that I always wanted to be at his place- knowing you deeper, exploring life together and witnessing how enchanted places can be when we travel. I want to be him because you always wanted to be with him.

Sometimes, I catch myself asking silly questions. And when I say silly, I really mean hurtful. Why don’t you just love me when all you have to do is be with me and not him?  Why can’t you just love me when you are so loving to the others? What do I have to do for you to know that I have this feeling towards you? Why can’t you just appreciate me? Why not me? Why do you keep on ignoring me? Why do you choose him over me? These silly questions mainly revolve around you, me and him. Fuck him.

While you are not that person who shows utmost care and understanding, I still believe that they are hidden behind those expressive eyes. You know that it's my weakness. And I love the way you look at me without a clue of my emotions. Sometimes I wonder, maybe you know about how I feel for you and that's the reason why you choose to ignore them and entertain the fact that it is real. Maybe we are too afraid of knowing the truth when in fact we both know it’s something I can no longer control neither can you.

They say that what you don’t know won’t hurt you. But here I am, still very eager to know everything about your activities. I am your greatest stalker, after all. It hurts a lot because there will be times that I see photographs of you together. And there will be times I won’t. And it will be more hurting on my part because I no longer have any idea what the two of you is doing. What kind of masochist have I let myself become? I will tend to become anxious... thinking of any possibilities what the two of you may be possibly be doing. And I will hate you afterward. I can’t imagine the amount of hate I have for you.

But I still love you. And it grows much more every single day. And I hate myself because I can't stop this feeling. And I hate myself because it's killing me inside.