Sophrosyne

Cup of hot coffee in one hand? Check.

Blue sweater and black beanie? Check.

That same old park bench beside that cherry blossom tree? Check.

Same old same old routine. So consistent. So annoying. So dull.

The girl took a sip from her hot coffee, relishing on its bittersweet aftertaste and warmth. Winter may be slowly going, but snow still continuously came bit by bit; she catches this tiny snowflake and watches as it melts on her palm.

February 14th. The date where most couples would gladly spend their time and money for lavish gifts and surprises. Why do they only do it on this day? If they really love each other, why not make everyday their 'Valentine's Day' and treat their other half as special as their life and not just let some tradition do it for them?

Well, she likes to think she's not as bitter as she seems.

She remembers the sparks his eyes held when they glance at her. The off-handed gestures that could mean much more only to her... that could feel much more only to her.

The smiles he only reserved for her. The pecks and passionate kisses he showered on her whenever he wants. Whenever she wants. The hugs that comforted her when her own cannot calm the raging storm inside.

The gifts from the littlest ones to the biggest ones... how he'll find a reason for every occasion-no matter how little- just so that he can make her smile.

They used to sit here very often, doing absolutely nothing. Watching as other people would pass by them, and they'll jokingly guess what they're up to. But often times they'll just let silence-comfortable silence- settle between them, with the wind cooling them and each other's warmth heating the other. Just sitting, being content in each other's arms.

She doesn't know how it happened. One moment she states that she doesn't need love in her life and the next, he's sweeping her off of her feet.

She doesn't know how it happened. One moment they look at each other like the other is the center of their universe and the next, he's smashing lips with some tall redhead.

But she remembers exactly how it felt like. How she dropped her phone on the pavement in shock; that after two hours of waiting like an idiot in a crowded area, this, this is what she gets.

She remembers exactly how it felt like. How his lazy eyes found her glassy ones and immediately were full of regret, of guilt.

He excuses himself from the redhead. His face a mirror of worry, he quickly reaches her spot with just a couple of strides. But she's not there anymore. She catches a cab and gives it a couple more bucks if it could reach her home in a faster time. Which it did. But the cab driver didn't accept the extra payment; he told her to keep it, told her that he's not worth it.

It could be really interesting how even the strangest of people, how even the nameless people you don't know, can still try to give comfort to you. Yet the people whom you know the most, whom you trust the most, whom you love the most, can easily stab you in just a snap. It's funny, this human nature.

She doesn't speak to him. She reads and listens to his texts and voicemails, but that's all. She sends back all the gifts he gave her; he sends her back one, a bracelet that had different flowers as charms. "Keep it. I'm so sorry, and I know that you wouldn't forgive me or talk to me, but please keep it." The note said.

And now she sits on that same park bench near that same cherry blossom tree on that same time every year ever since. She knows that it'll bring back memories, but this was her spot long before it became theirs. It's not that she's bitter. Oh no. She just...misses it. Years have passed and she still misses it. Gosh, I can be so clingy. No wonder.

She misses those sparks. She misses those off-handed gestures. She misses those smiles. She misses those pecks and passionate kisses. She misses those hugs.

But most of all, she misses the love.

No not that bastard, last time she heard he'd moved on to another redhead, and that he moved to Spain for his graduate studies. It's good riddance to him.

He was her first love, so she doesn't know where to compare love but to what they had. She misses how love felt like. She misses the excitement, the joy, the giddiness, the euphoria, and she even misses the pain, the pressure, the mini fall-outs, the forgiveness, the making up.

She tried moving on. But no, she didn't go in anymore dates. To say she was afraid of being hurt will be an understatement. She focused on other things: her work, her friends, her family, herself. She knows it's not enough of a distraction, but it'll have to do.

February 14th. The date where most couples would gladly spend their time and money for lavish gifts and surprises. The day where most single people would blatantly call "Independence Day" to hide their "non-existent" loneliness. Because everyone feels lonely no matter how we try to forget it.

She realizes that it's okay to be sad; it's okay not to be okay. That sometimes, being not okay is the step you have to take so that you'll find that happiness and sense of peace you crave.

She'll never forget him, she knows. You can never forget your first love, whether it was the greatest or the great tragedy in your life.

And she knows that there's much more to come. There's a lot more to be explored. So much more opportunities.

And if there's none, then to hell with it. Atleast she got to experience something before her time's up.

She gets up from her seat, throws her emptied cup in a nearby trashcan (because nature will bite you back in the ass if you don't take care of it people), warms her hands with her own, and starts to walk to wherever her feet will take her.

She wonders why it took her this damn long to see things straight.

And for the first time in (what felt like) years, a real smile finally takes place in her face.

Thank God for these moments. It's not so dull when you think about it.