It's my heart against your hands. Scissors paper stone.
You won every single time. And I let you.

Some time back, I realized how replaceable I can be. Or anyone can be. How easily feelings can replicated. How flippantly people can forget one another. And how frequently we meet new people. And how temporal our existences are. I realized how transient was what we had between us. Almost nonexistent. "Almost" because you told me to not lose hope.

And this hope is coming back to haunt me.

I don't know why I subject myself to this vortex of emotions. But the bottom line is, I deserve all this shit. I caused all this bedlam upon myself. And I'm too fucked up to save my own life.

And after all these while, I realize now, that it has always been my hands against my heart. Scissors paper stone.
There's no we. Just me.