A semicolon represents a sentence the author could’ve ended but chose not to.
People always tell me to stop using semicolons and start using periods.
But how exactly do I tell them?
How do I tell them the sentence doesn’t exist?
In fact, I am more familiar with periods. You see, what he and I had already ended before it could even begin.
Incredible, unadulterated, true, and infinite—All the beautiful words to describe what we could have had are but a string of fictional words—words that could have been, words that should have been. The sentences we could have formed remain frozen in nonexistent paragraphs. Our story would have been the greatest , but instead, it is left untold. It is written under the blanket of the stars, lost in a place where neither of us would ever find it.
How could I explain that it had never been a decision?
I never chose to fall for him. Love just unfurled its ruthless wings the moment he walked in my life. The letters just crashed down, and for a moment, I was mute, unable to form coherent sentences. If anything, it was my first comma, the first time my world paused. Loving him came naturally even when our story was over.
I guess I stayed even when there was nothing to stay for. Why?
Maybe it’s some sick, masochistic desire to keep forgiving the one who keeps hurting me, the one who keeps on pushing me away. Or Maybe it’s the thought of him changing his mind.
Just the tiny hope of having him say just a single word to you, the prospect of being accepted back, or the chance of him finally saying yes starts budding inside of you. The what if’s make you want to stay because that chance of him taking you back is worth the risk of him saying no.
The what if’s make ME use semicolons. A lot of them, by the way.
It’s the reason why people always tell me to stop using semicolons and start using periods.
But How? How could I ever make these people understand my predicament.
My semicolons are only ever written in invisible ink because truthfully, he and I don’t have a continuation.
I never expected a continuation. I never really had any hope of being that girl he’d finally fall for.
It’s just absurd, you know? I can’t picture anyone daydreaming about me. I can’t picture anyone talking about me. I can’t picture anyone being absolutely, madly, intensely, and extremely in love with me. Just can’t. I especially can’t picture him being absolutely, madly, intensely, and extremely in love with me. I mean… why would he when he has her?
With him, I don’t have semicolons. All I have are periods permanently printed in ink.
He ended a sentence the moment he said goodbye.
He ended a paragraph the moment he walked away.
He ended our story the moment he asked someone else to stay.