P.S. Because I Loved You.

P.S. Because I Loved You [11].

September 3:

Dear Ethan,

I have a confession to make. Although I've loved you unconditionally, I have also held bitter, vile thoughts against you. I would hate you for not giving me the same amount of love back. Sometimes I felt like I was just deserving the love you put limits to. It's as if I was a flower staring to bloom and you were my care-taker. You would put enough water to allow for my survival but not so much to the extent that I could bloom extented petals.

I recall my emotions from last year, on the month of my birthday. We had phone "dates" where we would just talk to each other for hours about spontaneous topics. The night after my birthday, you promised to give me a call around midnight. I grew exhilarant and paranoid at the same time. What if I bore you? What if I said something wrong? What if I let the conversation die or fall into the hands of silence?

It was 12:30am already and I still didn't hear my mobile ring. The phone was tightly clutched in my hand, in my lap. Once the clock hit 12:35, I decided to call you. It had been the first time that I was the one to call you. Usually you were the one who planned our hours and you'd tell me that you would call me. You said you were busy at home and the silent volume was not functioning; everytime a ringtone blarred the atmosphere, your parents would get mad; thus the reason of you always calling me. I was a bit frightened, I admit. I could hear my breath quiver and my fingers slightly tremble. I heard three rings and still no answer. The fifth ring meant direct voicemail. The fourth ring was bold and long, and as I waited for your deep voice to say "Hey Angel" like always, I was afraid you had gotten tired of me. This is how paranoid I was - I continually carried pensive thoughts on why our relationship had existed and how I could have easily ruined it. After hearing "Hello?" on the line, my heartbeat went back to it's regular beating but stopped for a nanosecond when I realized you didn't say "Angel".

"Hey, it's me." I whispered under my blanket with a torch in hand.

"What happened?" I heard a groan. "Why are you calling me this late?"

In confusion I replied, "It's not even late. Just 12:50. Don't you remember? You promised to call me but never did..."

"Oh damn, I'm sorry." You murmured.

"It's okay. Sorry to wake you. You can go back to sleep if you would like."

"Yeah, I think that's the best idea. I had a long day today."

"Oh...okay." I muttered.

"We cool? I'll talk to you later. Bye." You said hurried.

Before I had the chance to say "Goodnight", I heard the tone go beep, beep, beep, beep. Telling me the person on the line had ended the call.

I shut the torch and closed my flip phone. I didn't know what to expect. I thought we would talk until sunrise. I had new topics in mind. Last week you told me that you were interested in the issue of the death penalty and this afternoon I met a girl whose brother was on row for capital punishment. This was rare and exciting news I had no one to share it with.

You said you would talk to me "later". To me, the connotation of "later" meant so many things. It didn't feel like you wanted to talk to me soon but rather after a long time. "Later" seemed like "I'll talk to you whenever I feel like" or "You're not that important to talk to at this exact moment".  Our conversation was definitely out of the ordinary. We would always talk fluidly for hours, with no interruptions. You were in a rush to end my call. Your tone was...agitated. Why? Where did I go wrong? Was I not allowed to call you at all? Were you tired of hearing my boring stories? Did you finally see all my imperfections and flaws?

I felt like I was always the weight of our relationships. Ever since we became close, I noticed that you no longer hung out with your guy friends. You stopped texting after you found out I couldn't text. You deleted your MySpace after I told you how I detested the dirty website. I had an epiphany and suddenly an idea sparked in my head: Did I tear you away from your own social life?

Even if I did make you somewhat anti-social, I will give myself credit for the fact that my feelings for you was pure love. I sacrificed many things for you. I left the house at times to meet you in the corner so we could cuddle and walk around the park. I hoarded our one family computer just so I could chat with you sometimes. I gave up my school work to be with you. I ignored everyone else in school, especially the girls who I was beginning to befriend, because I thought that we would always be together. My emotions toward you was so deep that I was willing to throw away my possessions, my life - just for the sake of yours. I would always hold your hand and feed you positive thoughts. Even though I hated myself, I would praise you.

Once you love someone, you can never get your full heart back. Because they've already used it and used hearts are bound to die out faster.

Why do I get the feeling that you didn't love me as much as I loved you?

Rosalie

P.S. I was talking to Tristan in the library at school today and he surprised me. He gave me a ring. Not a plastic one, not a diamond one. It was a regular ring, the type girls wear on a daily basis. Regardless of quality, I was still shocked because I had never received such a precious gift. I asked him, "What is this for?" and he smiled and said, "For telling you that you are my sunshine. To let you know that I will always be with you. Always and forever." I had tears in my eyes and we embraced each other with a gentle hug. The tears in my eyes were not because of the valuabe gift, but because I remembered you once telling scolding me when you were mad, "You are the rain cloud in my life, scaring the sun away."