Wait.
“But what?”
She hated the harsh, barking laughter, which left her lips.
“But what, Minho?”
“Was I supposed to wait? To wait until you finally noticed me? Until you finally realized how I felt about you? How you may possibly feel towards me? And then wait again, until you finally muster the courage to tell me? Was I?”
“Was I supposed to wait for something which might never come? Wait for someone who might not even care for me a fraction of how I feel towards him? Pine for something; some love, some abstract, intangible, nonsensical idea about destiny and fate, which might never have been meant for me?”
She felt her arms slash through the air repeatedly. She probably looked crazed, but the months, years of frustration were bursting at the seams of her sanity.
She no longer had any control. She had lost control the day she fell for him. She lost control again, when she continued loving him, after he told her about his girlfriend and asked for her blessings. She lost control when her lips gave him the most sincere smile she could muster. She lost control when her feet couldn’t pull her away from him, but instead kept carrying her towards him. She lost control, time and again, when she continued falling, deeper and deeper into this hopeless abyss.
She saw the stricken look on his face and felt the horrible, bile-like sour twinge at the back of her mouth. She bit her tongue, but it did little to stop her rant, the pent-up misery.
“How was I supposed to do that, Minho? How? How could I wait for someone who couldn’t spare me an extra glance? How could I pin my hopes, my everything, on someone who, up till a month ago, only saw me as “Gwiboon, my best friend”?”
“I didn’t know -…“
“How could I have done it yet not have my heart break into a million pieces?”
The tears stung her eyes. But her pride wouldn’t allow them to fall. Whatever little dignity she had left before him commanded that he not see her tears roll down her cheeks. She flicked them away with a quick, impatient brush of her hand.
“Or maybe it’s already broken.”
“I can’t do this. I can’t…”
With those last words, she did the only thing she knew to do - flee.
-
25 minutes too late.
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contemplating doing a sequel to this but we'll see how it goes. =)
She hated the harsh, barking laughter, which left her lips.
“But what, Minho?”
“Was I supposed to wait? To wait until you finally noticed me? Until you finally realized how I felt about you? How you may possibly feel towards me? And then wait again, until you finally muster the courage to tell me? Was I?”
“Was I supposed to wait for something which might never come? Wait for someone who might not even care for me a fraction of how I feel towards him? Pine for something; some love, some abstract, intangible, nonsensical idea about destiny and fate, which might never have been meant for me?”
She felt her arms slash through the air repeatedly. She probably looked crazed, but the months, years of frustration were bursting at the seams of her sanity.
She no longer had any control. She had lost control the day she fell for him. She lost control again, when she continued loving him, after he told her about his girlfriend and asked for her blessings. She lost control when her lips gave him the most sincere smile she could muster. She lost control when her feet couldn’t pull her away from him, but instead kept carrying her towards him. She lost control, time and again, when she continued falling, deeper and deeper into this hopeless abyss.
She saw the stricken look on his face and felt the horrible, bile-like sour twinge at the back of her mouth. She bit her tongue, but it did little to stop her rant, the pent-up misery.
“How was I supposed to do that, Minho? How? How could I wait for someone who couldn’t spare me an extra glance? How could I pin my hopes, my everything, on someone who, up till a month ago, only saw me as “Gwiboon, my best friend”?”
“I didn’t know -…“
“How could I have done it yet not have my heart break into a million pieces?”
The tears stung her eyes. But her pride wouldn’t allow them to fall. Whatever little dignity she had left before him commanded that he not see her tears roll down her cheeks. She flicked them away with a quick, impatient brush of her hand.
“Or maybe it’s already broken.”
“I can’t do this. I can’t…”
With those last words, she did the only thing she knew to do - flee.
-
25 minutes too late.
web counter
-
contemplating doing a sequel to this but we'll see how it goes. =)