A Second Chance To The First Time.

Thirteen

I got up from the couch and held the scrapbook she gave me during our first anniversary. I remember placing all the physical memories I had with her inside it. I was incapable of feeling anything back then that to me, it was just pictures and letters that tried it's best to remind me of what used to be.

I opened the scrapbook and saw all of the memories we had, saved in paper and film. I went through every item and remembered the story behind each one of them. Everything felt neutral except one item. It was the piece of the bars I wore together with my pilot uniform back then. I only had one pair when I was still flying in the city because it was somewhat special to me in a metaphorical yet ironic sense. For me, it symbolised ascension from trouble, yet never absolutely safe from falling. I gave the other pair to Rachel when I first left for Poresing and asked her to keep it until I returned for good. I held it on top of my palm and released a great sigh. "What happened to us?" I asked myself.

(Thirteen)

Going back to analysing the past, I remember how the first few weeks in Poresing showed promise that our relationship was getting better. We had deep and meaningful conversations again, and understood it's importance if we were to survive this long distance relationship. Our priorities were in line and ensured that we were going to try harder. Sadly, it started decaying again. This time, it was deadlier.

I sat on my bed and analysed where we made our mistakes. I guess the best way to know the "why" is to understand the "how." Over the course of almost 5 months, I simplified the changes that happened between us:

The amount of time she went out during the weekends increased constantly. Before, she would usually go out either on a Friday or a Saturday. The problem started when she went out on both days. Of course, I didn't stop her. I didn't want to be someone who tells her what to do. I thought that if she really wanted to talk to me, I wouldn't have to ask or force her to do it. I guess I really just wanted it to be genuine and not just because I told her to. I believe that she knew our relationship was going down, yet could it have been saved? Then again, we had the weekdays so why didn't we make up for it during those times? Simply because we were both busy and were not able to commit 100% in our conversations since school stuff needed to be done. Although this hindrance was apparent, we still talked. It was just that our conversations seemed like a routine rather than being dynamic. It honestly felt as if I had a virtual girlfriend. Maybe if I voiced out, things could have improved. Could our relationship have been saved if I stressed out the need for our deep conversations?

We got so used to the change that it became a new norm for our relationship. Since our conversations became like a routine to us, the amount of commitment hanged by a thread. I started to care less about her not having time for me that it resulted to me playing video games more than the usual. More often enough, I started delaying replies and calls from her because my mind was preoccupied with the gaming mentality. I even remember Jay hearing my phone ring during one of our games before and even asked me whether I wanted to take it or not. I remember saying it was fine and that we should continue playing. I was honestly exhausted and fed up with my desperate attempts to get at least one of the weekends for us to talk. I remember how I used to make her feel guilty and pitiful on how I waited every weekend for her to spend at least one of it to talk to me. There was even a time when it actually worked. She promised me that she was going to stay home on one of those weekends. Then came the peer pressure and curiosity that she ditched me. Of course, she promised that she was really going to stay on the next weekend, but I didn't expect it to happen. Sure enough, it didn't. She even forgot the promise and just told me that she was going out. I started to care less about it to the extent that I wasn't that much curios or affected to knowing whether she was drunk, disrespected, or anything significant really as compared to before. I became immune to it that I myself evolved into someone similar. The problem was that when we care less about something, our expectations drop. Depending on how low that expectation drops, the amount of achievements fall proportionally. The moment I started expecting less was when I started to care less. The more I didn't expect, the less I tried to make it better. Could our relationship been saved it I just tried harder?