A Letter to the First Boy I've Ever Loved

4 - The truth I hid from you.

But that was a lie. I told you mine happened a few weeks before your "about a week ago," but the truth is, it happened many many many many many many weeks before your "about a week ago." It was when you first told me about her and I first told you about him. I was unaware of it that time but now, I can never be more sure.

That night, it was when you and I began talking endlessly everyday. It was when you began to mean so much more to me than being just the funny guy. It was because of that night why we started to talk from night to morning and morning to night. It was a night I will seize to remember for long and a night I will forever long to undo.

Flashback to when you were unimportant to me, the time came when the group calls became so habitual that I already had to squish it into my daily routine, in between studying and sleeping. It was when I had to pretend to sleep and whisper into my microphone for my parents not to hear me talk and laugh and listen - I know how amusing and hilarious you found that.

It was when I was elevated from being just a girl to being the hilarious-gangster-we-need-to-add-to-our-group-calls-all-the-time girl. It was crazy really, how I never really belonged to your crowd yet you loved including me in it, how I unconsciously blended into your group of friends as quickly and yet as subtly as I did.

I was the palpitate in an aqueous solution. I made your homogeneous mixture into a heterogeneous one, yet it was as if I didn't.

It was as if I belonged and I was one of the H20 molecules. It was as if I wasn't different. Well maybe, I really wasn't. But whether I was different or the same, matters not actually. What matters is that I shouldn't have blended in as much as I did.

Before we knew it, a year had already gone by. You still were as unimportant to me as you were when we first met, I probably was as unimportant as I was for you, too. It was insane how we spent mornings and afternoons and evenings and midnights just talking and joking and teasing and laughing without even realizing anything.

It was insane how we both did not matter to one another, not when we were so alike, not when you called me 'gangsta' and you loved that, not when I cursed so hard I was almost better at it than you, not even when Patrick figured he did not belong anymore, not even when everyone else felt they didn't belong anymore when you and I engaged in conversation.

I realize only now - when so many days and weeks and months have passed - that it all changed in the first different 2 a.m. one-on-one phone call.

Do you remember when I first heard them tease you about her? You probably don't but I do. I began teasing you to her along with them ever since. I was so intrigued and psyched by the back story of how you and her came to be. I wanted to hear you tell me about her. I wanted to officially be friends with you back then.

That night, we waited, like we usually did, for everyone else to leave our group call. Around two in the morning, we were finally the only ones left to converse.

You were so hesitant to share your story that night but yet again, I was very persistent.

"If you tell me about Margo, I'll tell you about John.," I bargained. And that did it.

You told me about how you liked someone else when you first met Margo. I told you about how John spoke to me when I first saw him. You told me about how she didn't matter to you that much during the soiree when you met. I told you about how he was being too clingy and needy in the soiree where you and I first met. You told me about how you two suddenly became closer than you both expected. I told you about how clingy and scary he seemed to me after a while. You told me about how you both were exclusive yet unofficial. I told you about how I became afraid of him for he was moving too fast without even having me yet. You told me about how you and Margo were close to ending after a year. I told you about how I ran away from John after five days of almost saying yes to him.

That simple and almost-harmless conversation changed more things than we both thought and expected. It marked when we first began saying good nights and good mornings. It marked when we began to talk everyday instead of thrice a week or so. It marked when we began to and preferred to have one-on-one phone calls than group calls. It was the beginning of the things I regret now. It was the beginning of the mornings and afternoons and evenings I will forever long to undo. I hate that night.

Do you know why I hate that night? I hate it because I hate you. And do you know why I hate you? I hate you because I never hated you. I hate you because I only realized that I should hate you today when I should have known so many weeks and months and years before. I should have known that I should hate you, but I didn't. I didn't know until the reason slapped me in the face, slapped me so hard my tears exploded like a pinata suddenly burst open by a starving five-year-old; and I've never hated you as much as I do now because I still cannot and do not hate you. I hate that I don't hate you because I want to hate you really badly. I can't hate you because I loved everything we were. You were not and never were my boyfriend, but you did more to me than a first boyfriend ever would.