I was always one to call out those over the top melodramatic kinds of people and I am very much aware that I posted my sorry attempt at asking for forgiveness to someone very dear to me yesterday.
Here is my other ‘sorry’ attempt at an explanation:
In retrospect, I do not know who wronged who or who but the ache and pain and guilt is there.
Aside then, from an Original Pilipino Music that I keep hitting replay on, this I will be added on my playlist. I liked it, the very first time I heard it but the impact it has on me over the past few days has been great because now, I can relate to every word in a literal sense. I am no longer visualizing the ‘if’ this would happen to me scene, because it ‘did’ happen to me.
Hello, it’s me
I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet
To go over everything
They say that time’s supposed to heal you
but I ain’t done much healing
They lasted a year. Can you believe it?
I lasted a year, too. It’s now been officially one year and one day of my being such a stupid little girl.
Bear with me, as I drama my way out of this shithole.
Excuse my language.
Too tired and lazy to edit and hit the backspace button.
There’s such a difference between us
And a million miles
This, funnily enough, is true – in all aspects.
I can vividly recall the confession I told him and his ‘awesome’ response was:
I like you but I don’t want to give both of us the illusion that this can work out. Long Distance Relationships are always meant to break a good friendship.
And in my defense, knowing my sole purpose for confessing, I selfishly replied:
Loving someone and wanting to have a relationship with someone are two different things, you know.
Hello, how are you?
It’s so typical of me to talk about myself I’m sorry
I hope that you’re well
Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?
But then – the calls.
Man… the calls.
I’d call. He’d call.
And he’d say I love you to me before we say goodnight, knowing full well I love him and I’d say the words back.
For a time, it was bliss.
Because I could not have known that somewhere along these days, he was courting HER.
And I didn’t know.
All along, I’d be stuck in bliss and we’d exchange sweet words be ‘lovers’, in whatever way you’d want to think of it.
ALMOST. But not quite.
Confused as I was, we started talking about ‘us.’
What were we really?
I can no longer remember clearly who first asked this question but the response he gave me was in every sense, heartbreaking. And for a time, I had no one to talk to. (Thank God for WordPress)
Him: What am I to you?
I: If I answer that, would anything change?
Him: No, nothing would.
Reality hurts, people.
And so recently, when he started calling me again, just to check in and gloat about his life in his city (yeah, keep telling yourself that, dude), I was stoked! I found myself back to where I was one year ago.
I would go down to our front porch, away from all nuisances inside the house and we’d talk.
I found myself loving the moonlight once again.
Night time, once again, became our time together.
Until THE night.
Until the night he called; drunk.
There were often times in the ‘blissful’ past when we’d call each other and we were both drunk, in a sense, or either one of us was, and we’d still talk cohesively and coherently.
But THIS night was different.
THIS night was what made me share this.
THIS night brought back the ache and the pain, and the sorrow.
We were having just the usual chatty conversations we usually have, (e.g. music, his girlfriend, news, and silly stuff, the stories we are writing and how to improve them, all rolled into one) then,
*INSERT USUAL CHATTY CONVERSATION BETWEEN TWO WEIRD PEOPLE HERE*
Him: Hey, I have a recording of your voice?
Him: I have recordings of you.
Me: What did I say?
Him: Something along the lines of I like you and I cherish you, among others.
I was speechless! Honestly! What? Seriously, dude?
But I played along.
He wasn’t going to tell me, but I kinda (okay maybe I really did force him to tell me) forced him to tell me. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A FUNNY REMINISCING CONVO!
Him: You told me you love me. And I keep replaying it sometimes. I love hearing your voice when you say it.
What the hell is wrong with this person?
I was smiling. But I was not, in any way, happy. I was hurt!
That scene in the movies right before a hero dies and his life flashes back in front of his eyes?
Mine did; except only hurt came back.
To relieve the tension, he said some pretty awkward jokes and I tried to laugh and all but … nada.
We were both too smart to pretend there wasn’t something going on.
Darnit! I am stupid. I know right?
I am fine now.
As I am typing these now, I can feel the guilt easing down and everything. Hahaha.
THEN … Two days later, he calls. And I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to hear his voice yet.
I was not ready for yet another of his revelations.
But … like a fool, I answered.
And what I did was unimaginable. Even for me.
I am not one be so overly dramatic over the phone. I prefer my verbal confrontations, up front and in-the-face. But as this would never be the case between me and him, I (yes, I did) vented out on him. Over. The. Phone. And I said everything.
I am pretty sure I blurted even more horrible stuff at someone (him) I should not be mad at. Something along the lines of,
I am tired.
I am angry.
I am not angry with you it’s just that there were some things I thought I have moved on from but as it turns out, I haven’t … and I am angry.
And he just listened. His silence made me even madder! I was like an immature child just looking for a wall to punch and I hit him hard.
He tried so hard to ask for my forgiveness.
He kept saying sorry.
And all I could say was, “You don’t have to say sorry. It is not your fault. Even if I want to be angry with you, I have no right to. After all, who am I to you?”
WHO AM I TO HIM ANYWAY?
The debacle ended and he, like the amazing actor that he is, laughed it all off.
We were on the verge of wanting to cry but I guess we will always know the truth. A realist and a cynic never make a great relationship, I guess. A realist and a fanatic, even more so.
(Okay, but who knows… You know.. Haha!)
THE DAY AFTER
Finally sober and mature enough to think things through, I tried calling him to say sorry. Up until now, five days later, he still hasn’t responded.
I just wanted to say sorry.
We’re thousands of miles away from each other and I know he’s busy what with school and his other co-curricular stuff going on. And yeah, his girlfriend … and all that jazz.
I, too, with my upcoming exams and work, but please… If he were to just answer my call.
He once told me he had huge abandonment issues. And that oft times, if he feels that someone is about to give him the cold shoulder, he leaves right off the bat. “Better to leave first than to be abandoned,” he’d always say. I hope he knows I will never abandon him. I never did. I was just hurt. And I may have said hurtful stuff and made him feel very, very horrible about our situation and I might have insinuated that it is his fault but I didn’t mean for all of this to happen.
But if he does not, then so be it.
It must seem selfish from your point of view but I have tried.
I held on.
And I am only a finger away from falling off the edge.
Hello from the other side
I must have called a thousand times
To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done
But when I call you never seem to be home
Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried
To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart
But it don’t matter. It clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore.
Someone once told me, “ Sometimes a reopened wound hurts more. At least the first time, you didn’t know you were going to hurt or that it would hurt so much. But when it opens again, you feel it twice over, and you know how deep it can cut. That’s why you write your stories. Doesn’t ease the pain, just… transfers it to a different medium. And he was right.
If everything was a lie, will I still wait for this to be reality?
I am realist, but yes.
And it’s no secret that the both of us are running out of time.