“You disappoint me,” was what your eyes said as you smiled at me and told me “It’s all right.” If it was possible to measure the pain, I’d like to measure which pain hurt me more between the way you lied to me or when you told the truth to other people.

  “She wasn’t like this in the past. She used to be so great. I don’t get her.”

  I would pretend not to hear it. I would pretend that I didn’t feel violated. But sometimes I wondered, did you really want me not to hear it?

  There were two golden medals left with us. I purposely left others behind. I didn’t know whether it was a good decision or not. It was bad because you had less proof of my glorious time in the past. It was good because I didn’t think I could bear the pain of seeing you reminiscing the passed glory.

  You hang it right where it was visible for eyes, especially for my eyes. You hang what was left behind from the person who once became your dignity. The person who wasn’t like me. The person who used to be me.

  “You burden me,” I said inwardly every time you opened your lips. “You suffocate me,” I said inwardly every time you looked at me.

  “You detest me,” was all I had in my already rotten mind.

  More than anything, I wanted to leave. I didn’t belong here and this place was everything I had left. I needed to go. I needed to live my life once more. I really wanted to leave, but I couldn’t leave you behind.

  So in the end I stayed, as flesh and bone was the only thing I had with me. I wondered where did my light go? Did it reach the night sky to become one of the stars that would lead others way to home?

  If the disappearance of my light had become a perk for others, should I let myself being swept until I crossed the universe and forever failed to be your star?