So I fixed myself a cup of coffee and grabbed Marley which is already almost crumpled in the tight pocket of my brown slacks.
I never really thought that I would be writing about this topic ever. It’s about this guy. I don’t know why I have been thinking more about him lately when I am also trying to get rid of him in my thoughts. I have caught myself several times wondering if he ever would make a mistake calling me. I don’t think he would. There’s no palpable reason for him to do so. I have also wondered if he would ever drop an e-mail to say “Hi. Hello. Are you still alive?”. I don’t think he even bothers to check his mailbox when it is examination season in his university. Why am I thinking like this? Maybe because of the unusual route we took tonight on the way home? No. Maybe because it’s almost December 26, the day that would mark the first year I have not seen him in person. I don’t know.
I have worked so hard to get over him. It wasn’t so easy though. I have never seen myself reacted so badly after a break up. To justify it, though he was not my first (and I doubt if he would be the last), he was the only person I really believed in, the only person I allowed myself to embrace with my future not minding the odds. It was the first time that I believed a fairy tale could happen in reality. I am a very realistic person and allowing myself to ride Cinderella’s carriage in glass slippers is kind of absurd.
He was a sensitive guy, generous and passionate. He might be a great guy but then in the end, I can’t really judge the relationship if it was good or not but I felt it was just a matter of experience for him. It felt as though he needed a big break, a shot, an experience to deposit for his memory bank, or maybe just a saved account for him to tell his friends and girlfriends that he had a past with a girl from Davao whose name is Mantis. I really do not like the thought but I can’t help it. I never wanted to become just a part of someone’s memory like a page on someone’s diary. Was I just used? I hate it but that’s where the water had seem to boil down to.
One time, we (Mara, JC and me) were talking about what a certain boyfriend did to a girl or a girlfriend did to a guy to express their affection. We agreed that boys and girls when they are so in love would do even the corniest thing we know just to let the person feel that we love him or her. And I remembered that I did something unbelievable too. Well, I wrote our love story. It started from the day I saw him the first time up to the day I watched him walk away to the departure lounge. I finished it in one month and three weeks, used five sign pens and three notebooks and had it bound later. Yes, it was handwritten. The book was more than an inch thick.
I thought this guy is a past. But then I got myself thinking that maybe he is a present perfect tense, an action that happened in the past that has a connection in the present. Whatever the connection is I still can’t figure it out.
It was sad. For, me the relationship was as though a potential fruit-bearing plant uprooted from the earth before it can even strengthen its trunk.
I appreciate a lot of things in my life. I think most of it. On the contrary, missing him is the only feeling that I have at these moments that I can’t really consider pleasant enough for an appreciation. I don’t know if I am holding on. There is nothing to hold on. I even have the thought that he already has a girlfriend because it’s almost Christmas. I have already changed my life plan exclusively for me and my daughter. Is this some kind of a “hang-over”? If it is, wow, this is the longest hang-over I have had without getting intoxicated. Alka Seltzer, anyone?
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