It was his birthday. But it was his birthday too.
Guilt grew towards the one who didn’t deserve to be neglected.
The gentle, young and mature one who makes you motivate and love.
He isn’t the “sweet prince” that authors write about in stories. He is the reference that gave authors the idea in the first place.
The one who shows that even falling in love can be a joyous ride even if that ride ends eventually. And you can step off with a light heart and a fond memory.
Not an angel, but closer than the rest of us.
Ahh, but it was also his birthday.
The wretched one who makes you hesitate and hate.
Never him, but yourself.
The one who made you realize that falling love isn’t always a pleasant ride but can be an unwelcoming muddy trail of quicksand that leads to nowhere.
Is it “nowhere” because it never ends or because you’re forced to give up?
Because he will never help you.
He will watch you from the trees. Say a few empty words, not of encouragement but of acknowledgement.
And watch you slowly but surely drown.
Not a devil, but closer than the rest of us.