You

Love isn't a foreign word word to you. You have fallen in love so many times that you can count. Your heart has been shattered a lot. It never stopped you. With a teary smile, you pick the pieces of your heart. In less than a minute, you're ready to give it out to the next person. You're really brave stupid sometimes. 

Love isn't a foreign word to me either. Unlike you, I have fallen in love once and it was with you. My heart is still intact. I never give it out to anyone, not even you. I always watch you as you pick the pieces of your heart. You usually whine and I stand by the door feeling awkward. I don't feel the need to comfort you, after all I wasn't the one who broke it. 

You're kneeling at the side of my bed. Your eyes are blank and my body is stone cold. The beautiful skin that I usually spend hours staring out is turning blue. Maybe it's the cold, maybe it's something else. Not even you can escape the ugliness that death brings. You have a look of devastation and pain. It's almost funny because I'm usually the one with that look.

I remember the first time I saw you in middle school. You shone like the sun. You brought life and happiness to my bleak existence. We weren't friends at first, just barely acquittance but you still made me happy. The first time you spoke to me, I felt like jumping and screaming in happiness. 

My love story didn't end in middle school. I had a scholarship to a great school but I rejected it. I would rather go to a dilapidated community high school with you. Nothing mattered to me. Grades, friends, social life were nothing. I had nothing because I was so busy being your shadow. To me, you were my end game. You were the price.

Life isn't easy for people like me. After high school, you wanted to work for a while before college. So we both ended up taking menial jobs. You ended up accepting an admission into a university. You never told me, you exact words were,

" Oh yeah, sorry, I thought you wanted to work a bit"

I had smiled. Of course, it was like you to be selfish. Earning less than two hundred a month was better than going to college. You left with your merry-go friends and I was stuck in a gas station for two years.

You're selfish and annoying. Most days I wonder how I fell in love with you. I don't think you ever consider my feelings when making any decisions. It has only been you and you alone. To my parents, I am a fool who will keep chasing a reckless and unachievable dream. Their thoughts and opinions doesn't matter to me.

You are wailing and crying now. The tears in your eyes give me a certain kind of joy. You never paid any attention to me and here you are, crying and begging. I smiled as I combed my hand through your hair. Your tears intensifies and my happiness increases. I don't care the kind of attention you give me, as you as it's directed to me.

Our story is similar to those crappy love story where the main character gets the girl and the side character is left with nothing. I am the side character. Undignified, unwanted and a shadow. I am only acknowledge on days where I can play the character of the clown. It isn't where I want to be but since it's near you, I will take it.

Your wedding day was the worst day of my life. You weren't getting married to me but to another person. I watched as your bride walked down the altar in white and smiles. As your best men clapped you in the back. I listened to your work friends howl when you kissed your bride. I hated it but I had smiled, I wouldn't want to ruin your best day.

Happiness and joy were a factor in your family. I was the first person you called when you found out that your wife was pregnant and on the day the child was born, I had held your hands and comforted you. The happiness that radiated from your face when you saw your baby was enough to harden my heart.

To be honest, it was just a playful thought till I decided to act on it. Stabbing your wife was unpleasant for me.The blood that gashed from her wounds were nauseating for me. I had expertly cleaned myself from the scene. I knew you would be sad when you see what happened to your wife but it wouldn't matter for long as I would make sure to comfort you.

The bags under your eyes after her death made me question my actions. Maybe I should have killed her earlier on then you wouldn't be so sad. I cooked, cleaned and supported you through your grief period. Even going as far as taking care of the demon child you created with her.

You must think of me as a bad person but I am really not. Everything I am, you made me. If I am a psychopath with a tendency for destruction then it is your fault. You used me and you broke me. I didn't give you my heart but you took my soul and ripped it out of my body. Loving you is stressful.

You gave me your heart a little too late. My soul and my body is already broken and battered. There was nothing that could fix it. You kept me as your last option. By the time you said the words I had been waiting for, I was already exhausted and tired of life. Tired of living and hoping. Tired of waiting for you.

Here you are, standing at my grave. My resting place. You're crying and howling. Your ten old son; the one I helped you raise,the child whose mother I killed, is trying to wipe his tears. I like to think you're more devastated by my death that you were with your wife. I have just one wish and that is to see your wife in the afterlife. Maybe I could apologize for killing her. and maybe, just maybe, after reading the letter I kept on your desk, you would forgive me for my wrong and you wouldn't mind falling in love with me in my next life