The Man With Fifteen Questions

How Will I Get Her Back?

I believe this is the question she also asked herself during the time I had a girlfriend. It was during junior year in high school. I considered her as someone I know.

Just someone.

I never thought she'll be the kind of girl who could easily manipulate me.

I never guessed she'll be the person I'll learn to hate.

I never thought she will be the woman I will completely fall in love with.

I guess this is why I keep on reminding myself that people who comes and goes in my life should be treated with equal importance. Because I could never know what will change in the near future.

Vaguely enough I remember having a conversation with her.

I was having doubts with my feelings of my current relationship at that time. I'm not saying I was already falling for her. As I've said I only see her as someone—an individual. Plus, I just don't know whom to ask because most of my friends then also knew my girlfriend. Simply put, I wanted an outsider's point of view.

And so I began a casual conversation when I spotted her eating her lunch.

"Do you like her for me?" I inquired.

I didn't use the word girlfriend because it was obvious enough who it is we're talking about.

"Why is my opinion suddenly important?" she asked after chewing her food. It was a tuna sandwich. I could tell through the smell. But I didn't ask why she never bothered eating a heavy meal during lunch. If I did then maybe I should've known that she prepared her lunch herself just to prove her independence. Instead I said...

"I just wanna know."

"Why? Are you two getting married?"

"No! Well... at least not yet. So what do you think of her?"

"I don't know her enough to give a proper conclusion as to why I like her or don't like her."

"That means you don't, right?"

"I just told you my answer and yet you heard a whole different sentence."

"I know you long enough to say that if you don't like anyone or anything you won't directly say it but if you do you'll directly say it."

I heard enough stories from her older brother how frank she could be. So I was confident that I knew what I'm saying. And that was also the reason why I spoke to her in the first place.

"That only proves you don't know me that much."

"How come?"

I was confused.

"Because if you do you won't say I'm that kind of person who admits what I like and don't like."

"Are you saying you've been lying all this time?"

"No."

"Then what the hell are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that I know when to keep my mouth shut."

"And why would you do that? You were always honest about how you feel. This is why I'm asking you about my girlfriend!"

I yelled because I was frustrated.

"That's not true. I haven't said yet that I like you."

I was stunned.

And then there was silence—a deafening kind of silence.

From then on I haven't spoken to her again. Months later my girlfriend and I broke up. Then, before our high school graduation I find myself being with her most of the time as if we never had that conversation. So I thought everything was cool. Maybe I just had it all wrong. Maybe she like me like an older brother. But I was so wrong. What happened next was pure hell and torture.

Anger leads me to pain.

Pain leads me to sorrow.

Sorrow leads me to where I am now.

And trust me, I wanted another destination.

I wanted her back because it will lead me to happiness. But I wanted it to be both our happiness. As to how we're going to both have it I still haven't found a clue.