The two of us

This story is built in the midst of the wrong situation and the wrong opportunity.

Way back in high school.

We were friends then. Tells the problem, cries to each other. You have memorized me, and I have memorized you too. I estimate the joke that will make you laugh and I also estimate the right tickle to get rid of your anger. We find each other a refuge and a breath in the penetrating world. I didn't even realize that I loved you. Hide the feeling we played for a few months. True, I was also shocked at how I fell in love with you. Because someone like you is a goddess I should not approach, kiss, or even touch. Until the simple gaze became stare, only caresses should be in the hands became grips, and only side by side but the touch was different. My heart was filled with love and it reached an explosion. Expresses feelings, assuming you feel the same. But I was even more shocked when you said you love me too. And it was one of the happiest days of my life. Since then every day holding your hand, smelling your hair, exchanging messages, singing; doing everything just to show you that I love you. But more than what we showed to each other weighed more on what we did not show but felt. I hold the moon and the stars when I am with you but why is it that when we are happy the next one is really sad.

Your parents know what we have. I never expected the next few weeks and months to be the darkest part of my life. Because our story is built in the midst of the wrong situation and the wrong opportunity. You will go to school with red eyes and a bruise on your arm. But what kills me more is the smile on your lips. Smiles I can not say fake because it is true. Is it because you are happy to see me even though the pain you feel is due to my love? Our love does not grow cold because of anything we do within the relationship. But the cold leap of anger of our elders. And what is more painful is that we can not resist yet. What you do not know is that not a day goes by that I do not cry in front of our friends, in front of the mirror, in front of the talking eyes and it says .....

"Another love died"

Killed in the midst of fun, killed in the midst of joy, killed in the midst of good growth. Destiny has killed us. We have been killed by people who do not trust us. We are killed by people who think we are childish. Yes, we were kids then but I know, I know that love is real. You started not going to school. And if I did not see you in your chair for a few hours, I would cry the same time in the back of the room.

Blame yourself for why this is and why that is. Why is this destiny? Why is love like that? And they will see in my tears that it is already crying because of the constant dripping, falling on the wooden chair. And my tears are falling even more because I do not know what is happening to you. Are you hurting? Are you crying too? Do you still love me? If only tears could wash the questions, it would be possible, because of the quantity they can be sorted. We haven't been able to talk for a few weeks, you are coming in but all we can do is hold hands. Because attached to the words are tears. So we covered it all with a hand grip, put a head on the shoulder, hugged. And I didn't expect it to be too late.

Because the 2011-2012 school year is over. And I never saw you again; neither shadow, nor new image of thee, for many years. All I have is the manila paper you gave to our friend to give to me. Which made me think that I wish, at least I had seen you before you reached the longest message I had ever read, from love forced to murder. After those scenes, I found out you were moving school next year. And that seems to have made my heart numb before. Or if I still have non before. Because of the few weeks and months of the darkest part of my life, it gradually broke, disappeared, and shattered.

It was also a few years before it was formed or was it really formed. I also loved heartless for a few years, because I used my brain. There I said that my love for you was my first love in my first heart. I have been healing for years, finding refuge in others, happiness, completeness, totality. At the back of my mind was the question:

"Where is he?" The questions, "Where is he? Have you seen that again?" I know they also feel, that whatever I answer has that mark on my heart. And even a few more sweeping troops will remind you that you are still sick. Even if I don’t show up, feel it. Eight years. Eight years passed when we spoke again.

How are you? Fine,

You? It's okay too.

And it was as if my heart had been enveloped again by destruction again from the beginning. And it seems like the story is not over in the last eight years, the 2012 version of ourselves is not dead yet. We talked. But that 's what we did wrong. That is why we did not speak until the last moments of our meeting we knew the words were equivalent to tears, and the words were equivalent to pain, and the words were equivalent to re-termination. We are four thousand three hundred and eighty-three miles away from each other. Again, this part of the story is re-formed amidst the wrong situation and the wrong opportunity.

And the most painful of all and the tear in the story of the two of us is that I already have someone else. Because I know I didn't wait for you, and I hope you know you didn't even feel it. The story of the two of us has become very complicated due to various inaccuracies of the situation and opportunity. And I know this time we should not blame it, because the mistake is in the two of us. How it turned out to be too late, or too early. The story of the two of us may end here but I also do not want to talk about the end, as happened after eight years, the story suddenly opened. And I don’t know how many more years, or really done.

This story will translate into more than a drink, a story, a simple sigh, a folk tale; with a man and a woman who fell in love even though they were forced to kill and engage in massacre. A story full of madness, and continued to be played by destiny. Is the page over? Again, as in the past eight years, the answer is yes. But the story is still alive, and will continue to live in my heart.

Happy Reading!

- It's me Newbt