Worthless

Worthless

He once told me that I am beautiful. He gave me roses – my favorite – and told me I was even more beautiful than those pretty things. He never really said that he loved me, at first. Yet, he proved it in the words he said, in his manners, and his treatment towards me as a woman. I believed that he respected me and cared for me more than anything else in the world. He knew I felt the same way too and we shared a love that stood against all odds.

Then he left. I have known it before. He never kept anything from me. He promised to come back when he’d be ready to claim me. I gave in – reluctantly - and sent him away, hoping that his promise to be back would come soon.

Days became lonelier after he had gone. He was the focus of my life and now, I felt like a nomad in the point of indirection. He had gone and I just couldn’t accept it. Yet, despite my miseries, he continued to care. My phone beeped almost everyday with messages from him, reminding me how much he missed me. One time, he even sang to me, crooning about how I would always be beautiful in his eyes. I held on to that thought, knowing that I was accepted, cared and loved for who I am.

Soon, the calls and the messages became less and less frequent, making me grow anxious every day. I tossed in bed at night, wondering what had become of him or if he had already forgotten about me. Then I cried myself to sleep, thinking how much I had missed him. I kept myself busy every day just so I wouldn’t have to keep him in my thoughts, but he was always there. I scraped most of my allowance just so I could call him and talk to him at night when everybody else was asleep. Yet, he didn’t seem so excited about talking to me. He mostly talks about his friends and the silliness they put themselves into, and I try to laugh at every funny thing he blabs about. I’m happy that he is happy and I knew I couldn’t ask for more, but, was that all?

Sometimes, he’d ask me how I was doing, and I’d tell him that I’m fine. Just that. I didn’t want him to know about my misery, my pain of missing him, my agony of longing for him. I didn’t want him to know how my heart breaks when a day passes that I don’t hear anything from him. I didn’t want him to see how my eyes bleed with tears that he won’t be able to wipe away. I try to keep up with my innocent laughter. After all, that’s what he loved about me. I never seemed to worry about anything.

His calls dwindled fewer and fewer as more weeks passed by. He had no time to call during Christmas or New Year’s Eve. His phone is mostly out of coverage and even if it does ring, he seldom takes time to answer it. He was always busy and it made me miss him more. What’s worse is, the more I missed him the more demanding I got. He did try to keep up with my demands. That included answering the phone late at night or early dawn, forcing his attention on me despite his sleepy state or giving in to my whims when I flare up or get angry. He tried to be angelic while I was playing devil to him all the time.

Then, one night, he had enough.

It was one of those tantrum nights when I start calling him at midnight and demanding his attention. I do that often. I start crying and accusing him of giving up on me. I would enumerate his past mistakes just to show him how much he owes me. Then I demand a break-up and he would start begging for another chance.

This time, however, there was no room for second chances. Not that I didn’t give it but because he never begged for it again. He gave me up, just like that.

I was struck dumb for a few moments. He went on to tell me how insensitive I was, that I never tried to understand his situation, and that I never cared for his feelings. He told me I was just like those girls who took him for granted in the past – worthless.

I wished I could say more, but my eyes were beginning to show my pain. I was just as worthless as them and it hurt me more for what it meant rather than for how he had said it. I tried to be calm, so I could think. And, when I got my senses back, I thanked him for everything and hanged up.

It was 4 hours before my first period class and I didn’t want to doze off in front of my professor. So I tried to go to sleep, crying.

-TigerLily

(I'm supposed to pass this to the Collage '09. I just can't resist the urge to post this here first!)