It's been more than two years since you knew how I feel for
you. I hope you know that I am still waiting for your response until now. Even
if it gets harder every day. Even if it seems you already forgot about me.
I love you, and I don't want you to go down in my memories
as a heartless human being who doesn't know how to care about other people's
feelings. I still believe you are not that kind of person.
When the time comes that I'd look back on today and you'll
be just another part of my history, I would like to feel the radiance of your
smile and the electricity brought about by your long, slender fingers brushing
ever so slightly against my skin. I would like to take in your scent that still
lingers in the air. I would like to wrap myself with the warmth and masculinity
of your voice. I would like to laugh heartily with you at the stories we share and
create weird inside jokes. I would like to romance the thought that in a world
where we are being trained to be busy with matters of consequence, time stopped
as I was granted the honor of your life shortly intersecting with mine.
Even in my memory, I want to still be in love with you.
There is always that one question that goes unanswered whenever
I think about what happened to us. We used to be friends, we used to be happy, and
we used to be the ones, maybe even the only ones who believed in each other when
the going gets tough. When I talk to you, my heart pumps out renewed strength
that courses through my entire body, making me believe I can do anything.
This is us now: not talking, not catching up, no nothing. We
have reduced each other from being friends into awkward strangers--just one of
the names that sporadically show up on our Facebook news feeds and contact
numbers on our phonebooks that neither of us even bother to dial.
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I know we share a lot of interests: we both like a great
chunk of music's spectrum, we both like 30 Seconds to Mars and Oasis, you are
the only other person I actually know that likes Kasabian, we both enjoy going
up a mountain, we both like Chuck... The list goes on.
I admit that you are the reason why I liked the last aforementioned
two, because you seem to really enjoy them. It is my way of widening a part of
my world so that it overlaps more with yours. I experienced and greatly enjoyed
going on a hike up a mountain and the taste of victory upon reaching the summit
and viewing the city that surrounds it. I also took pride in being able to
sleep in a tent while heavy rains and/or strong gusts of winds threatens to
topple it down, and standing on God-given view decks. I fell in love with Chuck
Bartowski, who, incidentally shares one of your names. I remember very
distinctly that you have the Buy More logo as your display photo when we became
friends on Facebook. In a lot of ways I saw myself in him: a guy working a low-paying
job who fell in love with someone way out of his league. It's the switched-gender
version of you and me.
I went to a hike up Mt Manabu last weekend. I can’t help but
remember you every time I walk through the woods. The memories of you are
strongest when we talk about each other’s love lives during socials. When that
topic comes up I just look up to the starry sky, for that is the only part of
the universe where we are together. My heart then utters a prayer that you’ll
be sitting in the grass beside me the next time I go on a climb.
But that is the next thing to impossible. I love you so much
and I really want to be with you in becoming one with nature, but I am afraid
to say this to you because there have been one too many times that you turned
me down. Did you know that I intended to invite you on that particular climb? I
really was, but then a lot of memories surged back: Paskuhan 2010, the week
before you enter law school, when The Avengers was showing in theatres, and the
Kjwan gig just recently—different occasions that I wanted to be with no one else
but you. I thought that no matter how many reasons I present for you to join
me, your reasons to decline are far greater; although I feel you only have one—and
that is because I am the one who invited you.
Well, who am I to you anyway? Why would you even trust
yourself to someone who loves you so much that (maybe) it reached a certain
level of creepy?
Maybe this is all we will ever be. I just cannot grasp the
fact that someone who even used to ask me how to court a girl will just drift
away like that. I cannot help but hate myself, and those times that I told you
over and over that I love you are the greatest mistakes of my life. We would’ve
been friends until now. I wish I just settled to just being your friend, no
matter how much my heart yearns for more, and no matter how much pain I undergo
every time you talk about those girls.
Those girls. Not just one girl, but three
of them. Three! And none of them was me. Why would I even think I’d stand a
chance?
Maybe if I just settled with being your friend, I would’ve
had my chance at showing you how happy you would be if you choose to be with me
instead. Or if not, burying these feelings in oblivion would’ve been easier.
Maybe I would’ve grown callous of the pain that I just start treating you as a
friend. I just didn’t realize that the way you’re drifting apart from me now
would be a thousand times more painful.
I thought the pain would be over if I tell you how I feel
about you. Instead I was introduced to a higher level of torment: the one where
you have said everything you need to say, to the point where you turn your soul
inside out to release the truth that smothers you… and then you receive no
answer. Not even a goddamn recognition. Not one fucking word. I have experienced
rejection a lot of times before, but the most painful is where you have said
everything that there is nothing else left to say, but still you are left
hanging and you start to wonder if what you gave will ever be enough.
That’s just so heartless of you to not value other people’s
feelings. It’s alright if you don’t consider me as a friend anymore. I just
hope you see me as another person standing at the same level as you are. I am
still someone who expects an answer when they ask a question. By the way you’re
treating me right now, it is as if you are trying to tell me that falling in
love with you is a sin and this excruciating pain is the price I have to pay.
But like what I said at the earlier part of this letter, I
still believe that you are not that kind of person. I still believe you have a
reason why you are doing this.
I am afraid that this love I feel for you will be replaced
by hatred in the future. I fear that I will realize that the love I offered and
hoped you will reciprocate is nothing but an idol I set up for myself.
I really, really love you.
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There is always that one question that goes unanswered whenever
I think about what happened to us.
Is this what I deserve for having the strength, just for
once, to fall in love with total abandon?
