We had been talking for quite a long time now. Our conversations were always random, honest, and homey. Talking to you felt like talking to a long time friend — always fun, nonstop, and relatable.
I didn't know why being with you felt that way. I didn't even know why I had my eyes on you the first time I saw you sitting on the brown monobloc chair, coffee on the table, and minding your own business.
While you were in the corner on your own, my eyes were completely focused on trying to read you. Your bright red jacket gave a strong impression. To me, you felt composed, organized, headstrong — the kind of person who knew exactly what he wanted; the kind who figured out life.
Your pair of black clubmaster glasses gave off a bossy, intelligent aura, like you could rule the world, tell everyone to do what you want, and they'd relentlessly follow. Your pair of white converse shoes meant that you could go anywhere you wanted. Meanwhile, your white totebag meant that you could be anyone as adventurous as you pleased.
I was fixated in your direction.
The more I looked at you, the more I was determined to talk to you, hold you close, and smell every scent that oozes out of your body.
But I didn't do anything.
Instead, I waited, and waited, and waited...
March
March came. Everything was starting to get out of control. The virus was getting real, and closer as the day went by. Cities called for lockdowns in an effort to contain it. Before we were barred to see each other for a long time, we decided to stay together. We knew we only had a few days, so we had to make everyday count.
We had a room for ourselves with a common kitchen. Since, obviously, it's an off-peak pandemic season, we had the whole Airbnb unit for ourselves.
Being with you felt surereal. It was full of rare, special, and unforgettable moments. It felt like I was on a cloud nine — happy, dreamy, and hopeful.
We either cooked or bought food. We then either ate them in the dining room, or in the corner of the bed, legs crossed. Some nights we stayed up late because we couldn't sleep from drinking too much Coke. Some nights you wanted to watch a movie only to doze off. But most nights we cuddle to sleep, our bodies warm with each other. I loved to pull you close to me, feel your body, and smell your entirety.
April
April came. We had to leave the Airbnb. You had to go back, and I had to find a temporary place to stay until everything went back to normal. If not, then until we'd be able to see each other again.
I was sad. The moment of truth came rushing back unavoidable. Reality meant anything temporary must remain temporary. You were my temporary reprieve — a happy place to go to, a reason why I even decided to come out of my comfort zone, and a sweet taste of life, albeit quick.
Finally, we separated ways. I was once again left to my demise — lost, longing, and lonely. Together, you were keeping me collected. Apart, I was troubled.
May
May came. I must have done something right for you to claim me as your boyfriend, a supposed partner for a long time. You called it first, as you always did. I never had a say on anything about the kind of relationship that we had. You knew what you wanted, and you had things figured out, while I was just trying to make things work in all aspects of my life.
By now, I may have had lost my job, and had been on an ongoing hunt for anything that I found worthwile.
June
June came. Days came and went. I was fond of playing mobile games and watching movies. I spent way more time playing, watching, and sleeping than actually talking to you. I wasted more time dealing with my own failures than actually talking to you and trying to work things out.
I wasted a good morning text, and never made an effort to FaceTime. God knew I was grateful to have received a good morning, or a good evening text. Inside me I was smiling, thankful. But I never admitted that, never had the courage to write love letters you so deserved and wanted. I never tried to put out my best foot forward because I simply didn't know what to do amidst everything.
Finally, you called it quits because it wasnt what you imagined for yourself to happen. You said you were merely reflecting your actions from mine, but my best guess was that I was just too much (or too less) to love.
Too much, too much, too much, is never enough.
Past x Present
To be honest, I was scared.
I was so scared of messing things up I ended up messing everything anyway.
I was so scared of falling under the same bus as before. I thought that if I could be all passive and playing safe, everything would fall into the right place. I changed the way I was to keep myself safe from being hurt again. I thought that if I changed things, everything might work out. I did way less of everything that it was all messed up, and you felt irrelevant, unworthy — you know that this isnt the case.
I now know that it's not how things should have been.
Love should have been all out, vulnerable, true. Love is a sacrifice to give a part of yourself to someone you trust and believe in, without expecting for something in return.
I am just happy that you are now happy with someone else. Whoever you end up being with, I know that he's the kind of person that you would have wanted to be with.
My past may have greatly affected my present, but I'm sure that my present will bring me closer to the future I want.