I guess I trust people too easily. Get taken advantage of too easily. Show too much emotion to people I don't truly know.
I thought that people weren't mysterious enough. That they were so very easily understood; just shallow creatures. When, in truth, it was me that was the gullible one. Me that I couldn't trust.
And how are you supposed to live if you can't trust yourself?
And now, by placing my hopes in one better left alone, something I thought shattered just broke even more. It cracked the day I found out the truth. I was a fool to ever think that he noticed me. That he returned the feelings I felt for him. That day, my wandering dreams were destroyed. But, yet, a little fragment was saved. I kept that one last hope close to my heart. Never allowing it to be shown outright again. Turning a cheerful front to the rest of the world, while inside I wasn't there; still living in the memory of that magical night.
True, there were the moments when happiness penetrated this mist. And sunshine broke through the clouds. But they were few and far in between, not providing enough sustenance to feed my last ember of hope for more than a second. But the light of those moments flared like a small sun, filling me with a high excitement, making me feel like I was whole again.
And so, at the beginning of the new year, I was relatively happy again; not truly happy, but vaguely past the confusion I had suffered. Not so much the innocent girl I had been, but still retaining the naiveté of the youthful. And that small hope still lived on.
But today, it shattered. Failed to glimmer with the light it had always held.
I suppose it had begun to dim once he had started showing an interest in her. And I can't blame her for that. After all, one can't control the emotions directed at oneself. And neither can I blame him. For obviously, I would know that feeling. So, the only one left to blame...would be myself. For the gullible nature that should've disappeared after the first time. And for refusing to give up hope...on him.
Even though he hasn't said it outright, it still hurts enough. Like a slap to the face. A rapid bringing-down-to-earth. Like finally acknowledging what was there from the start.
Acknowledging the fact, that he will never be mine. And always chasing after another, running farther and farther away as I wait patiently in the shadowed past. Praying for a silhouette of his affection. Praying that he'll turn back with a smile that will wipe away all the suffering and pain.
Turn back and hold out his hand...To me.
