What I'd Tell the Universe

They say we're too young to love and too young to be broken. So I really don't know how to tell the world why at such a young age, I was breathing through a gaping hole in my chest. You came into my life like any other leading men in novels do. In your blue and checkered polo, you reached your hand to me and asked for my name. You see, I barely talk to people. I don't even have a handful of friends. Some I call ones, are blood-related. You were the first human being, and the first guy who ever managed to introduce himself to me. I came off shy and awkward, you must have noticed. But who wouldn't? The way your eyes pierced through mine almost had my knees shaking and my soul in total havoc. I stood there. Reaching out for your hand too, shaking it and smiling lightly. Unable to meet your eyes for in that moment, I was afraid I'd spill my own self. Your face and your smile, had bothered my head for almost everyday. And the warmth of your fingers felt so real everytime I remember it. We became classmates in high school.

Now I want to tell you, I never hated you in high school. Never. It was just the fact that I can't stand being too near to you that made me avoid and push you away. We never got to hang out. Of course, who would love to hang-out with a quote-sprouting weirdo fangirling over books and fictional characters? But your constant endeavors and friendly nature completed my freshmen year. Your corny jokes, even if its not meant for me, made me laugh. And your beautiful mind would sometimes keep me awake at night. I was a bystander then. Watching your whole life unfold in front of me. You were a beautiful creation. A puzzle and a masterpiece any one with the eye for art would love to look at. And you must know, I have an eye and a heart for art. You were good at almost anything. You play chess at school and basketball. The only thing you've never been good at was figuring out why I can't get my words and thoughts right when you're around or why my tongue rolls back everytime you speak to me. You're the reason I stopped trying out in the volleyball team. I hated myself for continously failing awkwardly while you do so great. You got your shots straight. My knees never forgets to give up on me whenever you watch my game, and boy, do you watch so keenly. I don't know if I can ever live off that intense stare you always had about you. It makes me feel so utterly and stupidly giddy. But most of the time, conscious and nervous.

You made me want to be better. You made me want to be prettier. You made me want to ace my exam scores and perfect recitation. And you made me feel a little bit sad about myself when I learned about the certain girl you were courting. Now I don't want to sound like any jealous and whinny little girl, but she indeed looked so damn pretty. Her hair falls perfectly in place and she's a sweet little thing. It might have sounded stupid but it made me cry. Especially when she would tell us stories how you held her hand and how your dates went. I want to so badly pull whatever organ that's stinging in my chest. I would always have to fake the happiness and the teases I offer to compensate the huge smile and the cheeky blush she'd make. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry if there times, a lot of times, that I'd stupidly dreamed of you finally seeing me. Finally looking at me. It kinda hurts. Because the day you held out your hand and said your name, I thought we could be something. I thought finally, I could be having the greatest turning point of my life. Because that's what happens in novels right?

I am a sucker for romance. Although you might have heard me say a thousand times that I love tragic endings and that I think Romeo and Juliet are stupid. Dear, I am waiting for someone to be that kind of stupid for me. And when you and her actually subsided, I thought that maybe, maybe it is our time. Maybe the heavens have heard my heart weep and after three years they finally pitied me, but no.

She broke you and you broke her but for some reasons, you still cared. She still bothers you. And seeing you look at her with longing broke me more than ever. More than the times I have to cry myself to sleep in those three freaking years. It broke me. It broke me for the millionth time that even if there's no other girl, you'd still not see me. I tried befriending you. But the line you've drawn was so thick I had to accept no matter what I do, I'd still fade in the background. That no matter how much I try to be a ball of sunshine you'll never see my light. Because love, you were looking at the moon all these time.

You know the best thing I loved about you most? It's the way your eyes twinkle with mischief everytime you find something funny. It's the way your lips twitch when you're holding back a laugh, the way your brows would furrow in concentration, the way your boyish grin make my insides mushy or the way your smell feels so home. There are a lot of things I love about you. Your eyes, your smile, your hair, your mind. But what made me love you more than ever? It's how you make me feel every damn time. It's that familiarity and comfort and consciousness and intensity and nervousness all mucking up together whenever you're around. It's like I have always known you but I don't really do. It's comforting, yet foreign. And I don't blame you or anyone for this miserable ache in my chest or for the sad poems and wishful daydreams. No, it was no one's fault except mine. After all, it was me who dreamed for more than what you've given me, friendship and kindness.

And love, if there's one thing I'd tell the Universe before I'd die? It's how I am very much thankful to all the stars I've wished upon. They blessed me with you. And the day you said I love you too? It was the happiest day of my life. Even if I knew that love, was not more than that for a friend.

xx/xx/xx

Second year high school.