Songs Of A Brokenhearted Soul

★A Hound In Love

Confessions are like swallowing an inconsumable chunk of food. It makes one's stomach hurt, queasy and uncomfortable, it often leads to soreness of throat and fidgeting.

I hate telling what my heart yearns to say, but I couldn't help it. I must tell her that I'm deeply in love with her or else I will explode. The question is: how am I going to tell her about my feelings?

It took me several days before I have finally decided to tell her. My grandest moment has come and I'm still not confident.

She looks at me with an obvious uneasiness in her gazes. We've known each other for quite some time, but we've only given a chance to have finally interacted these past two years which have developed my feelings more.

"I have always admired you," I've started, without even hesitating, my voice holds no cracks either or it is shrilly, fortunately.

I can see her growing uncomfortable, so I continued talking, "I am completely aware that you're not yet ready, that this is not your priority, but wouldn't you give me a chance to prove myself worthy? To be the man you can lean on? The man you can run to?"

"I don't need any man, I have my family who I can lean on and run to, I can handle myself."

"I know you would say that, but having. . ."

"You're just jealous. Love is patient, it needs time," she cut me in my sentence.

"I have been patiently waiting for this moment to come. And . . . I'm not jealous, yes I see countless of lovers dating and doing all sorts of lovey-dovey stuff but it doesn't mean I should get a pair for myself just because I'm jealous." 

"Admit it, I'm jealous and curious too that I wanted to be in a relationship, but you have to gain control over everything and wait for the right time,"

"We both know that you're a blunt person, so could you just say it straightforward to me that I wasn't the man of your dreams, that I don't qualify for the standards of your ideal man, not like this, you're making the conversation long, and it's stinging."

"Yes I'm a blunt person, and I'm making this conversation long because I like you too, and I couldn't find the right words to say it directly to you, knowing you, you would be reacting fast without hearing me first. I'm not turning you down, but let me have some time to decide. Would it be okay?"

"You've predicted this didn't you? Yeah, it's okay, I'm satisfied to hear that you like me too, that I still have the chance. Take your time, and I wouldn't get tired of showing you how much you mean to me. I was just asking you for a date, not to be my girlfriend to be exact, but the way we carry this conversation is quite confusing, so I'm relieved."

"You were just going to ask me to a date? And you've talked too much?" She blushes.

"Um, yeah!" I say while scratching my head. "So, would you go with me?" I ask.

"I'll see," she smiles and then on we part our ways.

My ribcage feels so heavy, my head is dull. I have done a terrible mistake and I hope she would understand.

Friday, day 13th of February. We agreed to meet in a café, she arrived an hour earlier and still pretended that she just arrived. I look into those radiant black irises, they were so pure and intent that I couldn't contain looking any longer, I feel like being haunted by my wrongdoings.

"What's wrong? You look so tensed," she asks me. I fidgeted in my seat. Why does this feel harder than telling her I love her? Why does confessing a sin feel like being choked?

"I'm fine, but I need to tell you something."

She just chuckled, "That's why we're here, to talk about something."

"But," I was trying to protest but her mouth is way faster.

"I have finally decided," she said smilingly. "I have decided to be with you, to be your girlfriend."

I couldn't help but to force a smile. This is what I love the most about this woman, she's so straightforward.

"Are you certain?" I ask.

"Of course I am," she reaches for my hand and holds it tightly.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you too, but I'm already committed to someone else."

"You're kidding right?" The expression on her face turns soury as she slowly lets go of my hands.

"I'm not kidding, I'm sorry if I haven't told you just yet."

I see tears dropping from her eyes now, I feel relieved that I have finally said it, but among the emotions that surge within my veins, it is guilt that pangs the most.

"It was like yesterday that you told me you're in love with me, and now you're committed?"

"Yes, and it was yesterday too that I have found out that my other ideal girl is in love with me too."

"You're impossible. Well, since we aren't officially us yet, I retake all the words that I've said to you." She stands up from her seat and is about to go. I was about to say, "Don't go," but she overtakes me, saying: "You hound should only choose a bitch, and I beseech you: please don't lump me with your bitches coz I ain't a bitch."

She storms out the door, leaving me behind. Guilt has devoured me. I should have not been an idiot, but I had chosen to be one so I have to face the outcomes of my doings.

Two weeks have passed and each day I become number and number while our relationship gets colder.

In the third week we've finally decided to cool off and everything's over.