"Hi."
"Hey."
"What's up?"
"Not much, you?"
January 7th, 2007. A Sunday. I remember well.
The wind was humid, and the vibe was mellow, and winter break felt like it would last forever. The house was quiet - almost too quiet. The only sounds I can hear are the hum of my laptop, the wind escaping its exhausts, and several clicks and clacks impending from my ancient keyboard. It was almost as if I was totally engulfed by isolation, doing nothing but expanding the distance between me and humanity until a simple two-letter word came flashing up my phone's screen. A two-letter word that who would've known would trigger everything. Since then, we'd talk for hours, until the break of dawn - sometimes, even after the break of tomorrow's dawn. We'd talk about anything and everything under the sun. The way you'd always wanted to devour a slice of warm, freshly baked pepperoni pizza at two o'clock in the morning. The way your five year old sister wouldn't stop complainging how you never seem to notice anymore because your eyes and attention are both locked up to the screen of your cellphone. The way you felt so alone on a cold Saturday evening, and you'd do nothing but stare at the way each snow flake falls so gently like weightless debris, slowly accumulating a mountain of "dandruff" on the pane of your window. And I would giggle every time.
"Hi."
"Hey."
"I like you."
"I like you, too."
February 7th, 2007. A Wednesday. I remember well.
The wind was hot, but the vibe was still mellow, and I think by now I've finally found my best friend. My partner. My tail. My shadow. The curve of the shoulder that fits my head perfectly when I need something to lean on as if it's been specially carved and molded for my head - and only mine - to fit. The backpack that will always have my back, no matter what the journey. My sidekick. My diary. Things have gotten exquisite and intimate, nnow that you're finally here. Despite your physical presence, the nightly texts have still not faded, accompanied by a few blushes and flushes, here and there. I remember that one night you called me at 4AM for no particular reason. That was bleak of you. But your bleakness is really cute. It lasted for four hours, and I'd have to say that was indeed the best four hours of the entirety of my life. I've spent majority of my 24 hours each day on you that you're almost part of my daily routine. You're right there, pasted on my schedule. Factually, I think of you. All the time. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Thinking about what time you're going to text me tonight. Or what emoji you're going to use. Or which "black scientist" we would be conversing about this time. Anything to keep talking to you. Sometimes, I reckon you should join the Olympics, considering the fact that you've been training so much, running on my mind daily. I still think of the very first time you told me I was beautiful, inside and out, and that if perfection was a crime, you'd visit me every day in jail. And I would giggle every time.
"Hi."
"Hey."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
March 7th, 2007. A Wednesday. I remember well.
You'd send me a downpour of kissing and flower emojis and afterwards, I'd hear a ring coming from the doorbell. I'd rush down the stairs, stumbling on some things on the way. I'd open the door to a bouquet of red and pink roses - my favorite colors! - as the warm breeze of the air kisses the follicles of my skin, along with the greatest and most precious gift I could ever ask for. You. In that moment, I could say that I am truthfully, deeply, profoundly, and stupidly in love with you. This is what love felt like. Sacrificing time and effort, sacrificing my entire being for one single stranger, whom you never even thought of loving. Who you've known for years, but was always no one to you. Who gave 'hi' a meaning. We've had conversations longer than meetings, and dates longer than parties. We'd go out to the park in the middle of the night just because you wouldn't allow yourself to succumb to the wrath of boredom, and maybe because your roommate was just too bleak tonight. In the mids of the walk, you'd capture my hand, and intertwine it with yours, and hold them firmly, swayed them along with yours, feeling the moonlit air carress our youthful skins. I stare and study your face. I notice just how long your nose is, just how your lips curve into corners of perfection that I would so gladly, gently touch and kiss. I notice the soft angles of your face, your edgy jaw line, and your prominent cheek bones. Your scruffy hair that seems to enjoy dancing along to the songs of the wind. You're so beautiful, just standing there, hand in mine, looking at me, speechless. All of a sudden, your lips find its way to mine, filling me with a perpetual explosion within me. I replay that moment in my head over and over again, staring at my blank ceiling. And I would giggle every time.
"Hi."
"Hey."
"I'm sorry."
"Okay."
June 7th, 2007. A Thursday. I remember well.
I was wrong. This is what feels like. Hurt. Aching. Tears. Jealousy. Sensitivity. I've never felt this uneasy around you. I used to enjoy every single moment with you, treasuring it, but now, I see every moment with you as time gone to waste. I've never felt so uninterested to reply to your messages, or to even take a glimpse of it. I used to be so eager to feel my phone vibrate, but now, it just feels me with anger. I've never gelt so doubtful of your love, so doubtful of your faithfulness. Maybe love isn't permanent. Maybe love changes through the seasons. Maybe you just get so tired of it. I think you already are. January through May, you wouldn't even dare to lay your eyes on a different lady, and now, I catch you going out with that girl from my class without even telling me, and you say you were with her to help you pick out something that would fit a girl's tastes, like me? I can't believe you. I don't believe you. I was infuriated and uncontrollable. There was no sign of love, only anguish etched all over my tear-stained face. I was poisoned by false assumptions and hearsays and jealous thoughts. I was insecure. The poison was so strong that it's killed our relationship. And I don't want it to ever live again.
June 7th, 2015. A Sunday. I remember well.
I still think of you. I still think of your arms around my weak shoulders that seem to be unable to carry the weight of the world. I still think of you comforting me in tough times. I don't think you can do that now.
I think of how faithful really were. I think of how I should've listened to you. I think of how you loved me so much, that you'd be willing to sacrifice your entire life for the sake of my happiness. I think of all the memories. I. Still. Think. Of. You.
I'm drowning in a pool of regrets, unable to do anything further, while I sit down and rest on your grave. Maybe forever is real. Maybe forever would last for 6 months only. That was forever. We were forever. The fights are vague, but the love is so vivid.
I've had so many sleepless nights, thinking that I killed you. My lack of trust killed you.
I'm still thinking of you. I'm sorry. I hope you're happy where you are now, and I've learned my lesson to cherish and love the people who've changed my life, and who'd risk anything to be with you and to make you happy, because these people are rare, and so are opportunities.
