Originally Posted by
duskymaid
So maybe what we had was love. Maybe I loved you, and I hoped to heavens that you loved me back: even just for a split second when we text, or during that moment when I hear your angelic and soulful voice, or the time when I laughed at one of your silly quirks. I’d be content with that idea, I’d be content that in the course of our friendship, there was a moment of mutuality; even if it was so quick I never noticed it at all.
It occurred to me again, this time in the middle of procrastinating against writing a letter for my dad. I kept you safe within the remote areas of my consciousness, but suddenly, as if driven by an unknown force, your memory unearths itself, returning some sort of unfinished business. Consequently, I pause from doodling on something and I start thinking about you.
And it always left me a touch of sadness.
As far as I’m concerned, I make it a point not to think about you anymore, at least not that often as I used to, in the form of preoccupation. There are a lot of things to do, friends to spend time and energy with, family affairs, television, radio, internet There’s even a new object of affection in the rough. Works for the most part, I should say. Within the confines of the office with papers and flyers before me, there is forgetting.
Just like the manner by which ice cubes freeze bacteria within their crystal networks. As long as they remain frozen, everything’s safe. There is no need to worry.
But somehow, you still manage to permeate my system, as if it were an expertise or a tediously learned skill. Moment by moment, you profusely enter my mind, filling my awareness with lost memories of once-upon-a-times and whatnots. Remembrances of sweet messages, exchanges of "I love yous" and phone calls. Of yesterday’s seemingly unbreakable promises and proclamations of forever.
I should’ve put into mind what an old friend said, "Forever is not real."
I have always yearned to understand what has happened between us. Us won’t even suffice: it was never a real relationship to begin with. It was a cyber relationship so to speak… We just enjoyed each other’s wits and basically loved the thought of having an affair that was borne out of mystery. Sometimes it pained me that I could not do anything in my power to make you fight for us. Certainly, the ambiguity was present, the ambiguity which you never wanted to clarify.
I could only let you go on with whatever it was that you desired, whether it be ranting about your insecurities, rejoicing over happier news or lamenting about your eventful past. On the other side, I remained silent in the middle of your hyped-up emotion. I was like a child with beaming eyes, eager to hear more stories of how you came about to be the person that you are. For you once told me that listening to you gave you strength to go on, and so I did. I have always wanted you to be okay.
Yet when it was my turn to be heard, the silence was a void. I suspended my disbelief when I convince myself that you always meant well. Whenever you apologized for there was nothing you can do about my bouts of depression or when you simplify things by saying "everything will be alright, I’ll always be here for you girl." I know I should not expect things from other people; perhaps I was at fault when I wanted more from you when you’ve already given so much of you.
You hurt me. You hurt me so many, many times. You hurt me so intensely I never dared to tell you anything about it. But then again, I also don’t deny the fact that I hurt you as well. I was a fool to think that it was a better way of dealing with things. And that, I presume to be my biggest mistake: I abandoned myself and forget about how you feel as well. I sought for my own happiness that I forgot to consider yours too.
And just like that you vanished, very much like a soap bubble floating across air. I have looked up to you in complete awe, wonder and even fascination. And similar to any ethereal fleeting moment, you were gone, leaving me clueless as to whether you even existed in the first place.
So maybe what we had was love. Maybe I loved you, and I hoped to heavens that you loved me back: even just for a split second when we text, or during that moment when I hear your angelic and soulful voice, or the time when I laughed at one of your silly quirks. I’d be content with that idea, I’d be content that in the course of our friendship, there was a moment of mutuality; even if it was so quick I never noticed it at all.
Perhaps I still do love you, but that won’t do much now. I can fight to save everything that I’ve invested, but I chose not to. I have treasured you in the past, and that will be enough. Right now, all I can do is wish you well in all your endeavors, including the pursuit for the one who is right for you. When you find her, I wish she makes you happy. You make her happy as well.
The end is only a beginning disguised as a parting. I will still think about you every now and then, probably be sad once in a while, but you need not to worry. For I am okay and I will be okay under all circumstances. It may take time for me to love again, but in the long run, it will be all worth it. I may still risk myself, but every risk in its own respect is worth taking anyway. Love is such a convoluted mixture of emotions and decisions that it’s a matter of working your way through it.
Thank you for gracing my life like a whirlwind, leaving me breathless and hurt, inspired and furious, affectionate and listless. You’ve taught me quite a lot and I learned them in the most humbling manner. Thank you for showing me what it means to be human, to commit mistakes, and to discover how to regain yourself after everything that had happened.
Like what I always say, "Ad astra per aspera." A rough road leads to the stars.
I’m on my way to becoming stellar.
Love you always,
Ann
Re: the loveletter you never sent?
Shut Up! Let your GAME do the talking!
you rock!!!
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