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Left Behind

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The first time I met you, the moment I said my ‘yes’, I knew I was willing to take a risk – the risk of falling in love, the risk of being left behind, the risk of having my heart broken.

I have always believed that you’re worth the risk.

I am writing this because I can still feel the ache when I saw you slowly moving away… that the familiarity of being left behind still lingers in my whole system… that I still cannot understand why you did that, in the same way that I cannot understand why I can’t leave you like that – why I’d always hold on to you.

I am writing this because ever since you’ve left, I cannot bear being left behind once more. “Please, not again”, I’d always say. And because of that, it has become my ritual to at least leave first, hurt first before they’ll ever have the chance to do that to me, again, like the way you did.

“Please, not again”.

I have always been afraid that what you did to me might happen again. The fear that crept through my spine was beyond control. I can never fathom hearing my own sobs nor feeling my own heart slowly shattering nor seeing someone dear walk away, again.

You’ve never failed to surprise me. It’s just you who’d do something unforgettable like that. And I’ve always hoped that it will only be you who’d do that… because right at this moment, it’s just you who’s worth the risk, it’s just you who’s worth the pain, it’s just you who’s worth the tears.

“Please, not again”. And without hesitation, I left.

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