Solitary is beautiful company. I can do things at my own pace, in my own strange ways. Nobody else would go on a walk with me around town, sit in a café for hours just writing on my journal or reading a book, or aimlessly window-shop with only jeepney fare in my pocket. It's just me and myself, and I can always count on that.
But what's this? I'm getting too used to holding your hand, hearing you laugh, watching you smile. I look for you when you're not around, catch you up on the things you missed, and get reminded of you when I see certain things on the internet or in shops around town. I'm thinking that I want to travel with you one day, or have you at my wedding.
That's the way it always goes, right? We make friends in the present with every intention of bringing them along to the future. But it's never that easy. I know we'll grow apart eventually and move on to the next thing. I know we'll grow up and change, and things won't be the same as they are now. There will be awkwardness, and we would end up reverting back to our old personalities because it's those versions of us that got along so well. Most of our conversations would be about the past, because that's all we would have in common by then.
I'll try not to focus on that, because for now, everything's so comfortable and easy between us. Linking hands, borrowing money, drinking from each other's water bottles. This warm, soft feeling means we care about each other. And though everything right now is turbulent and confusing, I'll remember you for our peaceful hours, when we'd go somewhere far away to clear our heads, when we'd eat out and have conversations about boys and love, when we'd share food and watch movies, when we'd watch out for each other as we slept. You're one of the things that make me happy, and if losing you is going to make me sad someday, then I'll know it's because of that.
