Comparisons are easily done once you had a taste of perfection. You were somewhere in between, perfectly imperfect? or imperfectly perfect? I don't know what to call it but I was happy. We were happy.
Or so I thought.
"I can't do this anymore!" I see the flare in your eyes. You just suddenly snapped in the middle of dinner, too drunk to flip the table. I kept quiet like nothing ever happened. I can hear the sound of the plates shattering and glasses breaking, the whole place is a mess. Guess I have to call someone to clean that up tomorrow.
I finished my dinner and when I stood up to the kitchen I see you all curled up sobbing your heart out. Anyone who can hear your tears will have a broken heart but what can I do to make it all go away? I am not him after all.
"I gave it all. I tried my best. Why was it not enough? Why did he still choose to leave me?"
You sounded so pathetic when you utter those words.
"Why can't you just suck it up and move on like the rest of us? Who told you to give your all in love? Now look at you, you have nothing left for yourself." Those were the words that I wanted to say. I want to scold you so bad, flip you and then send you far away. Far from the memories you created with him.
After all, the dead can no longer speak for itself.