Que seas muy feliz estés donde estés, cariño.
No importa que ya no vuelvas jamas conmigo.
Deseo, mi amor, que sepas también que te amo.
Que no te olvide, que nunca podré, te extraño.
Que seas muy feliz, que encuentres amor, mi vida.
Que nunca, mi amor, te digan adiós un día.
Que seas muy feliz, mientras que yo te sigo amando.
"You had your chance Monday..." someone told me Wednesday.
Did I? Did I really?
No. I did not. Because I respect. Because I don't matter.
I was numb for the time Darcy was back in town... numb to crying.
I was happy to see him loosen up and show us the great girl he has found.
I was happy to see him happy... and I appreciate anyone who makes him happy.
My face once again hurt from smiling all day. I laughed a lot. I was a friend.
But that shock thing... when the numbness wears off... and I'm left to sort my feelings and thoughts... it's all bad news. I crumble.
Monday night, we stood outside for a bit, by the pool.
There was a slight breeze... very warm air occasionally blowing at our faces... my hair getting fucked up, since it does not just blow in the breeze all romantic like on normal girls, but instead flies erratically and unflatteringly.
Blues and whites... those are the colors that I noticed most. Blues and whites flooded my field of vision. Everything white... with the occasional blue square. White cushions... foamy jacuzzi bubbles... white tiles... dark blue, almost black skies... sky blue buildings... a chlorinated pool.
The giant white cushions.
There he was to my left... smiling... chatting about Chicago, of all things... smiling... bright, white teeth.
Calm, quiet admiration... like when staring at the Hope Diamond at the Smithsonian-- so pretty and amazing. You can only imagine how fucking wonderful life would be if it belonged to you, but you're fine staring at it from behind the glass... you're fine walking away from it... because it will always be there if you ever want to admire it again... you just can't touch it, much less take it home with you.
A ti que con lo que te sobra me darías la luz para encender los días...
Your scraps give me enough light to ignite the days...
I was happy. I was calm. No heart palpitations... but knowing for certain that yeah... este corazón, it beats for you... I'm not this comfortable with anyone else. No bells or whistles or... crazy spinning room... just quiet recognition of my heart's situation.
It's yours... though you will never feel the same for me. I'm just a common person to you, but to me... there is no equivalent to you. And it's ok... it's ok... some feelings were just never meant to be reciprocated. Your girl... lucky, lovely girl.
Not all stories have happy endings.
Sometimes, the protagonist's love walks off into the sunset with his love... as the protagonist walks in the opposite direction, kicking rocks, resigned to the fact that she'll have to swallow her feelings... bottle them up and shove them into her darkest shelf.
But a smile will slowly creep across her face as she thinks of the happiness displayed by her love... happiness not provided by her as she had always hoped... but the happiness she had always hoped for him.
That silent understanding-- You don't belong to me. This whole time, I've only belonged to you, I still do, and I always will... but you never did belong to me... you never will...
No importa que ya no vuelvas jamas conmigo.
Deseo, mi amor, que sepas también que te amo.
Que no te olvide, que nunca podré, te extraño.
Que seas muy feliz, que encuentres amor, mi vida.
Que nunca, mi amor, te digan adiós un día.
Que seas muy feliz, mientras que yo te sigo amando.
"You had your chance Monday..." someone told me Wednesday.
Did I? Did I really?
No. I did not. Because I respect. Because I don't matter.
I was numb for the time Darcy was back in town... numb to crying.
I was happy to see him loosen up and show us the great girl he has found.
I was happy to see him happy... and I appreciate anyone who makes him happy.
My face once again hurt from smiling all day. I laughed a lot. I was a friend.
But that shock thing... when the numbness wears off... and I'm left to sort my feelings and thoughts... it's all bad news. I crumble.
Monday night, we stood outside for a bit, by the pool.
There was a slight breeze... very warm air occasionally blowing at our faces... my hair getting fucked up, since it does not just blow in the breeze all romantic like on normal girls, but instead flies erratically and unflatteringly.
Blues and whites... those are the colors that I noticed most. Blues and whites flooded my field of vision. Everything white... with the occasional blue square. White cushions... foamy jacuzzi bubbles... white tiles... dark blue, almost black skies... sky blue buildings... a chlorinated pool.
The giant white cushions.
There he was to my left... smiling... chatting about Chicago, of all things... smiling... bright, white teeth.
Calm, quiet admiration... like when staring at the Hope Diamond at the Smithsonian-- so pretty and amazing. You can only imagine how fucking wonderful life would be if it belonged to you, but you're fine staring at it from behind the glass... you're fine walking away from it... because it will always be there if you ever want to admire it again... you just can't touch it, much less take it home with you.
A ti que con lo que te sobra me darías la luz para encender los días...
Your scraps give me enough light to ignite the days...
I was happy. I was calm. No heart palpitations... but knowing for certain that yeah... este corazón, it beats for you... I'm not this comfortable with anyone else. No bells or whistles or... crazy spinning room... just quiet recognition of my heart's situation.
It's yours... though you will never feel the same for me. I'm just a common person to you, but to me... there is no equivalent to you. And it's ok... it's ok... some feelings were just never meant to be reciprocated. Your girl... lucky, lovely girl.
Not all stories have happy endings.
Sometimes, the protagonist's love walks off into the sunset with his love... as the protagonist walks in the opposite direction, kicking rocks, resigned to the fact that she'll have to swallow her feelings... bottle them up and shove them into her darkest shelf.
But a smile will slowly creep across her face as she thinks of the happiness displayed by her love... happiness not provided by her as she had always hoped... but the happiness she had always hoped for him.
That silent understanding-- You don't belong to me. This whole time, I've only belonged to you, I still do, and I always will... but you never did belong to me... you never will...
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