An excerpt from:
Who am I?

Summary: You are lonely and scared and just can't bring yourself to care anymore. But you do and he doesn't, which makes your puso hurt even more.
+.::.+.::.+.::.+.::.+.::.+

"Leave, please, just . . . leave." You look around, with tearful eyes and try not to meet his.

He tries to catch your attention; tries to place a hand on your shoulders, but you shake him off stiffly, a look of deep regret on your face.

His mouth opens, as if he is about to speak, but he quickly closes it just as fast, a ghost of a forced smile flitting across his lips. You give him a moment; you want to see if he will even try to make amends.

He still doesn't speak.

You release a sigh and turn your back to him, eyes burning with tears, your puso throbbing painfully in your chest.

Thump. Thump. Your puso doesn't feel broken, does it? It should feel broken, you think.

You spent a good half of your "school" taon pining after him, trying to get him to notice you. For months after that, when you finally told the big dope your feelings, suddenly he was different.

Not the boy you used to know, not this boy now. A new personality, new feelings, but still that same, stupid, body.

How dare he march into your life, spin your world around, and then leave again when he found someone new? How can he even look at you without remorse or regret? Does he not know that as you walk away you can start to feel your puso throbbing louder and louder, your head a mix of faint buzzing sounds, your legs moving without your mind's consent?

Your feelings aren't here now; they remain behind with him. Not that he'd know, anyway, since he obviously doesn't care anymore.

Suddenly, you feel your body turn, and your eyes flutter open, your tears dry and your lips chapped.

Your mouth widens and you say, dead calm, so calm it scares you, "I want to hate you, you know. I wish I could squeeze that little head of yours into a bloody pulp, but I can't. I want to—oh, gods—"

You let madami tears fall as you try to find the right words, ignoring his confusion. "Oh, shut up," you start off with, but as he tries to say something your voice slows, becoming emotionless and flat as your face relaxes considerably, "and I simply can't hate you, and I hate that, because it's me—damn it!—I should be able to hate whoever I please!"

You wipe stray tears off your face. "I trusted you. A lot, actually. I trusted you with my life—and I absolutely hate that I still do. I don't want to trust you with my life; I don't want to feel a lot of things around you, to be frank."

You shake your head, willing yourself not break down in front of him. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this, you know, I feel like I need to tell you everything on my mind, which sucks, sa pamamagitan ng the way."

You take another deep breath, dry sobs racking your body, "I can't even stand the way you stare at her anymore. I use to tolerate it, thinking that you just missed your friends, but it's something more. I can just tell. So leave me, don't try to come back. And even if you people don't work out, and she's gone, don't you dare come and remember me."

Your tears stop, you feel your limbs go slack (you are just standing there, and you've never felt madami vulnerable), and now he's staring at you, his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. You turn away wordlessly, feeling hollow inside.

The harsh sunlight greets you and you cringe. It shouldn't be sunny today. It shouldn't be sunny ever.

Yet, a small part of you is happy, happy for all this complication to be over and done, practically ecstatic because, hey, you bested him—he was everyone's hero, after all, so it's like you bested the whole damn king of them all, and that leaves you at the top, right?

At least until you see him laughing with his arm draped over a new girl with presa blonde hair (the kind you could never have), quite a big chest, (that you couldn't help notice,) and sparkly blue eyes, because that's when your puso starts throbbing painfully again.

(And you don't think it will ever fully stop.)
+.::.+.::.+.::.+.::.+.::.+

This is a story I have on fanfiction.net. For the rest of the story go to link. The first few chapters aren't so good, but I think they improve?

And, yes, I'm aware I did use cuss words but I truthfully couldn't think of any godly substitutes.

Can you guess who this is?

Question: Can anyone think of a better title? I don't have a very good one. And does anyone want a picture for this piece? Don't forget to comment!