Carpe's Home

That is the question I’ve been meaning to ask, among all other questions that I couldn't ask you. It’s been an old impulse, the desire to reach out to you and ask about your day, your life, your everything. But I couldn't, and I shouldn't, especially after everything, especially when you keep telling me to stop bothering you, especially when I'm still choosing to stay here. Last night I had a nightmare. The ring couldn't protect me anymore, and it scares me a bit.  I miss your hand on my ear. I miss your hug in the middle of the night. I miss you. Reach out to me whenever you can. I hope we can talk before it’s too late. I hope you can read this. I hope for you.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Now I no longer have dreams in which you scold me.  Instead, I have dreams that I just keep on saying sorry to you.   There were tears, lots of it. And my heart hurt, in my dream, out of my dream, every second, every day. Love hurts, they said. But I don’t want that kind of love.   Yet, the way I love hurts you badly.   I said you’re the last person I could hurt, still, I did it. After all the things you did for us, I let you beg for your love.   Trust me, I hate myself more than you do. But when I saw you cut your hand, I knew it didn't matter what I felt anymore.  I need to stay away from you.   I need to let you live. I need you…to be you. So, I will try to stop myself from reaching out to you. And it hurts, all over again, but I’m rather in pain than seeing you in so much worst, while I couldnt do anything, and I know I’m the reason for all of that.   So no, I will try to distance myself from you. And I will st...