Crimson Leaves

Rage.

Anger.

Hate.

Everything here is red. Such a deep, hurtful color. The color of roses. Of blood. Of scarlet letters.

I hate it here. I hate the color red. And I can’t even begin to explain the kind of emotions I would have to feel to end up back in this place.

This place where I’m forced to think of you. Of how much I miss you. Of how you just stopped thinking about me so easily. You were here one day and gone the next. You just winked me out of existence. How did you do that? I’m so fucking curious how someone as warm as the god damn sun can just turn to ice. Can you teach me?

Cause it’s actually bullshit that you left me here to deal with the hole you carved out of me. You shoved me into this ugly fucking red room and I can’t stand it.

Someone should have warned me about people like you. People that make you believe in magic. That make you search for meanings in numbers. That make you believe coincidences are just too coincidental to not be predestined.

Someone should have told me that a two is just a fucking two. And a seven isn’t really as lucky as everyone thinks it. And 13 is stupid and sometimes making the least favorite number your lucky number is stupid. But you had me. God did you have me.

How did you do that? It drives me crazy to think about it because I still fucking feel you.

I still feel you.

And every time, I end up back in this room. Staring at all this red. Wondering if it’ll fade to a dirty brown. Kind of like blood does when it oxidizes. And what’ll be of me then? The one stuck in the past. Where you left her. With no goodbye. No explanation. What did any of it mean? The numbers and the coincidences and the magic and the love. The promises and the aches. What did it mean?

I hate it here. I hate you for putting me here when you said you never would. It was always supposed to be us. You promised me. You promised and you always told me not to make promises I couldn’t keep because you hate false hope and look what you’ve gone and done. And for what? For what? Because I don’t understand. And I’m genuinely trying to but I just… what did I do?

I hate this red room and I hate you for putting me here and I hate you because I love you and I don’t want to love you anymore because it hurts.

You hurt me and I don’t know how to stop loving you.

Why do I love you?