It only took one word to finally convince you to say goodbye to the world you have long refused to leave.
The message was short, but the context was lengthy. If the message was a planet, this single word was the axis. Maybe the universe already saw it coming: this planet tipping over and you finally falling off this planet. You do not know what to feel now that you are again free to roam the galaxies. You wanted so bad to live in that planet, but you guess even planets nowadays can refuse their inhabitants.
The word was “whimpering.” You were told you were whimpering. Well, of course dear, you were. You were whimpering like a stray kitten looking for its mother, whimpering because you were hurting. The birth of this word was probably because frustration and reality decided to make out and have a baby. You wonder who celebrated on its birthday. You cannot say that you rejoiced on its delivery, but as you gazed upon and held it carefully, you were relieved. It was like a dam that has been wanting to break and flood over your consciousness. It carried along with it all the truths that you have constantly refused to face and accept because you were too adamant on prolonging the bliss of being together with a person who was never sure of you.
It is difficult to carry a raging and burning love when you keep on waiting for this matchstick which just wants to be beside your warmth but not wanting to be lit up. You meet halfway, but the matchstick remains inside its box because it is much safer in there. You decide to extinguish some of your flames so you could help the matchstick stop fearing what is outside the box. You keep yourself from growing warmer and bigger whilst the increasing number of wood being piled up in the furnace. You tell yourself to be the flame on a candle because no one gets scared with lit candles, right?
But darling, you know deep inside you were never a tongue of fire on a candle sitting alone in a cabin on top of a mountain; you were born a wildfire that brings forests into ashes. You love with no hesitations; you risk and you burn. You never had to ask whether the person deserves your love; you just light yourself up and love furiously.
However, you happened to love a matchstick. It looks upon itself as a tiny piece of red-headed wood, but you already see the wildfires it carries. Your heart is set ablaze as the future of the matchstick unfolds before your eyes. You are excited to burn alongside the fire out of the matchstick…but the matchstick just won’t budge out of its box. You think your fiery flames terrify it so you suppress everything your love is made of; thereby, you whimper. You were whimpering because you were already dying.