It's been thirty two hours. Thirty hours since I posted those pictures. The comments and likes are still flooding in. We broke the dam this time, you and I. We are at nine thousand comments now, and seventeen thousand likes. All good wishes. Everyone can't seem to get one word out of their comments- goals. You see that? They say we are goals and that we look so cute together. They always do. My dm's have been filled too. Messages keep coming in, asking for tips- "How do you do it, Celia? How?" The girls- younger and older say they're looking up to me. They say I'm their model and that someday, they want to be like me. Chuckles
The boys- younger and older, some tell me they wish they were you. They ask if you're making me as happy as I deserve to be. They ask if you realize the treasure you have. Others ask for counsel. How to treat their women better, how to solve issues. I respond to as many as I can. Girls and Boys. Everyone leaves satisfied, many return with testimonies. I am not sure how much longer I can refrain them from pronouncing me that name they're beginning to catch on- Love Doctor.
Chuckles! Nathan, do you see? We are goals and I am a love doctor. If only they knew. If only they knew. That before we took those pictures, I had to wash my face and reapply my makeup. The former had been smudged by tears, and my face had gone too red from crying and shouting. If only they knew, that last night when I posted "a quiet night with bae", it was indeed quiet. There you were, on the bed that I too laid, your back against mine, the wall of China between us. They do not know that last week, when I showed them the gift you bought for me, I forgot to add that it was for an apology. An apology for forgetting my birthday and our anniversary- they are the same date. How? I had asked... How could you have failed to remember both?
We are goals, Nathan. Yet, silence sings aloud in this house, deafening my eardrums with its resounding eeriness. Your clothes are no longer in our closets- they are in your suitcases, and everyday I watch you rifle through them for some clothes to wear, I get livid with frustration. This home, our home is just a building now. For it has lost what made it a home- the love, the attention, the happiness, the peace.
They don't know, that I only remember what you had for breakfast for the past one week, because I had to watch you make it, while the meal I had made for us, went cold on the dining table. And that I, I who swore to love you and be one with you, have made a separate entity of myself, day by day, without even realising it.
All doctors vow to save lives. What kind of a doctor do I make, if I can't even seem to resuscitate us. I've tried CPR, but you keep pulling the plug, leaving the cart with no voltage, to pull.
Tell me, Nathan. What kind of goals do we make? If we are no longer playing the field, and the ball and net are nowhere to be found? Alas no one knows this, no one sees behind the scenes, only the production.
