Dwelling on the Past

Such a cliché title.

But dammnit. I remember everything so clearly. More so whenever I read my old posts.

What happened to us?

Every time I look back on our affair, as I’d like to call it, I realize how real it was to me. How the emotions were so strong. But then again, maybe it was because I was young and knew nothing yet. I was so enthralled in being a part of this thing, whatever it was. We were stupid, we threw ourselves at each other. We masked our “love” as being kindred spirits, as I quote you. We masked our intense feelings of desire as “having a strong friendship”. It made no sense. We lied to ourselves for far too long.

We tried to show it through actions, but sometimes it just doesn’t cut it. I try to remember how things felt, I then realize how fresh the cut still is and how there will always be a hole in my heart I can never seem to fill. I will always pause and smile whenever someone mentions your name, and that’s just one thing no one can ever take away.

Our love, as I’d like to believe it was, was forbidden. It wasn’t something you would proudly proclaim or shout to the world about. It wasn’t something your friends would like to know first thing in the morning. It was taboo. It was something you’re supposed to hide. It sucked that love, our strong feelings for each other, had to be kept. Had to be postponed. Had to be through actions and never words. Only because we were afraid we wouldn’t feel the same way towards each other. Because it was not normal.

Someone like you, end up with someone like me? Someone like me, end up with someone like you? It just doesn’t make the equation work. It is not something you would expect. After 2 years of subtle hints of affection, sometimes, less subtle that most, I finally found out you felt the same way, if not for the leap of hope I took my birthday when I turned 15. You didn’t actually know it was my birthday if not for my friends who asked you to write on the card, which you did and you wrote: “Happy birthday Tin. You are definitely out of this world. You already know what I want to say. Love, M”

And that started it all. I didn’t know what you already wanted to say. Perhaps it was something, maybe I had an idea about it, but I was never sure. And that day, I was with my bestfriends and they told me, “Maybe you should ask her. Tell her how you feel.” Throughout the day, I was debating with myself. I remember very clearly how the war in my head and my heart took place that day. I was torn. What if you would look at me differently after knowing what I felt?

And you did. You did look at me differently. You saw me as an individual of your level. Of someone you thought you would have the right, have the privilege of loving. And you were right. We can love who want to, we can show our affection to who want to. And even though you only told me that time, I have always felt your love and care and presence in my life through many different ways. You were eccentric, bold, one of a kind. And I was crazy enough to think you would ever fall for me. That my stupid excuses to bump into you in the hallway actually worked.

I was hurt, especially every time I look back on everything. I am still hurt, just as much as the first time it happened. I was hurt because our love, our thing, our “relationship”(?), was never even given a chance. I never had time. I only had 24 hours to feel what it felt like to be loved by you and actually knowing and acknowledging it. I never got to taste the feeling of being in a relationship with you, although it I’m not saying it would have happened. I never got to experience being yours, although I was loyal while I felt things for you.

I am sad and not really comforted with the fact that you and I didn’t happen. I read back on all the letters I’ve written you, text I’ve written about and for you. I was crazy for you. And maybe this type of love only comes once in a while. How everything was just so goddamn one sided but actually two sided all this time. I wish I could have known earlier. But things happen for a reason. Our paths were not meant to collide.

Perhaps, in another universe, our love was made to be.

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2 years

It will almost be exactly 2 years since we’ve last spoken to each other.

Soapdish is making me feel something.

I don’t know what to say anymore. I don’t think of you anymore, I don’t miss you anymore – well, scratch that, I still do from time to time. I don’t hear your voice in my head anymore nor do I still write to and for you.

Sandali lang, what am I saying? I am over you, your time is done. ‘Di ko nang hahayaan patakbuhin ka pa ng mas matagal sa utak ko.

I don’t remember how things were before. Whenever I try to look back on the time we used to spend with each other, a big blur just enters my mind. Wala eh. Malabo na. Malabo ka na s’akin.

I hope you’re still making it great out in life. Probably traveling, making new friends and memories, overcoming obstacles and moving on… to better things, to greater avenues, to a world that I’m not a part of.

I don’t know what to say anymore. I just hope you’re happy.

I just hope you stop for a while and remember what Thursdays were for.

I Have Learned to Stop Searching for You

It has been months
It has been a 2 years
Since we last spoke.
Since the last time
my heart felt so full.

Do I miss you?
I know I do.
But I have learned to 
stop searching for you.

I no longer hear the bell
that rings twice each period

I no longer see you walk
down the hall with your back arched
and eyebrows narrowed
with your arms crossed
and heavy footsteps.

No, I no longer see your smile
and your white pearls taking a peek.
I no longer see your eyes crease
every time you laugh.

I no longer see your hands tremble
the way they used to do

every time you were about to 
present something.

I no longer see you cry
see you run into tears,
I no longer see your pain
see you come to me.

A hundred kilometers
Distance by presence
A million kilometers
Distance by heart

And though I know
we may never cross paths again
like we used to before
Remember this:

I have learned to
not search 
for you
anymore.

Old Post – Got Me Guessing

Sept. 1, 2014
10:50 am

You’ve got me guessing where you’ve been
where you are
where you’ll go
You’ve got me guessing if you’ll ever
decide to show

You’ve got me guessing what you’re doing
past 11,
or when you still cry the first day of September

You’ve got me guessing about your face today;
do you still smile
or just frown away

You’ve got me guessing
You’ve got me guessing

There’s so many things I don’t know about you
anymore
There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of you
at all

You’ve got me guessing
what you feel
what you think
and what you know
and sweety,

don’t ever think it was so easy to go

You Again

I have been seeing you in my dreams multiple times. I guess this is my unconsciousness trying to tell me that I still miss you.

I transferred to the states to continue studying. In my dream, I wasn’t in a particular grade level, but I’d like to assume I was in grade 12. You were my English teacher.

I entered the classroom full of wooden desk-chairs, a giant window with the fall colors popping, and you greeted me with your smile. It felt like home.

A few minutes later, I felt sick so I happened to doze off during your class. The bell rang and I woke up. I went to the closet close to you and got my coat. I was wearing a navy blue long sleeved turtleneck, jeans and a white scarf. It was fall, in case I forgot to mention that.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?” You asked, coming up to me. The classroom was cleared now. It was just the both of us. Dialogue still unclear as of now. But I’m sure you probably said the same thing.

“Yeah I am, I think I just dozed off,” I answered.

“It’s okay, I marked all your papers perfect anyway,” You said, positioning your body to the stacks of paper on your desk, and I saw all four with no names have a 20/20 mark on them. Those were all mine.

The next day, you took me out and we rode your car. We missed English class together. Students were wondering why you and I were gone at the same time. We went somewhere, I couldn’t remember where it was – but it was significant to the both of us.

My mom found out you were in my school, and asked the principal how something like this was possible. She said that since you got your divorce, all charges were lifted. I was happy, she wasn’t.

You still looked the same, sounded the same, smiled the same. You still moved the same and acted the same.

I know I miss you. But I also know I shouldn’t.