Wrong Person, Write Love.

Prose 037: Dear M.V.D.

November 15, 2020

To the first boy I loved,

How are you? It's been almost six years since I first met you. Although I never really knew you at all, I'm sure I loved you once upon a time and that's always been enough for me.

Truth to be told, I didn't remember on my own that it's your birthday today. I was just surprised when a calendar notification suddenly popped-up saying that it's my "kambal's twenty-first birthday," and for a brief moment after that, I felt really nostalgic and lonely at the same time— because I never thought there will come a day that I'd totally forget about everything that made me stay awake at night for so many months before.

I never thought that I'd be able to fall for someone new again, too.

But... It's just really so disappointing how someone like you who I've loved for so long was now just someone I used to know. What a pity that I can't even tell you directly these simple words because you might not even recognize me even if I tell you my name— for you never really remembered it at all. I, on the other hand, even wrote about a safe haven of your namesake every night in my novel.

But what else can we know? Back then, you're just a playboy, and I was just a naive girl. I never knew love at all, and perhaps that's one of the reasons why you've never talked to me again after that night when I should've said sorry but didn't.

And now I'm six years, seven months, and twelve days late already to fight for you— and no matter how much my heart ache at the thought that although I've always kept your address on my notes at the bottom of my treasure box along with my previous letters for you, I'll never have the courage to send them.

But I hope that somewhere along with the songs and jokes I sent to you every day before even if it's already past midnight (though I've never been good at staying late at night), you realized that I really loved you.

I wish you felt it during that first and last time you called me and heard my voice.

I wish you felt it with my silence when you told me that you hate me and that you've fallen for someone else already— because I never really hated you for that. In any case, I was rather relieved.

I wish you believed me, in everything I did and didn't say, because I've always been sincere and real to you.

I've always loved and hurt you, although now I'm just a stranger that you happened to know.

Thank you for "truly, deeply, and madly" loving me.

I should've said so before, but for the first and last time, goodbye, my darling.

At least, my love can't hurt you now.

- Aries Writes, "Dear M.V.D."