I’m still not the reason you stay up late at night, still not the one you text when you want to start a conversation, still not the one you share the most mildly interesting finds with…and I’m not so sure until when I would still want to be the one.
Just when I thought the days of looking at him from the corner of my eyes and looking at him from far away in fleeting dreams were gone, my heart starts beating for him once again. How do you move on especially when the ends of the strings left loose were only my heartstrings to begin with?
Was it lies, then, those self-affirmations that I had that told me that it was a first love, albeit a painful and unrequited one? My current feelings, though budding again, will not be as strong as the first and I only have one wish: have them vanish from the depths of wherever they are coming from.
I have never been in love but this is the closest experience I have on it yet. It bothers me greatly that once again I wake up with him in mind and I do not wish to let myself sort through the confusion that I had to go through when I first realised that I liked him but seeing as I can only ponder on this by myself, then perhaps letting myself feel freely these eery chemical reactions that affect my mind will be the only experience that will, in time, hopefully set me truly free and so I write this letter:
To you, who will follow my first:
I wonder for days when and where I will meet you to the point of impatience. Before you, I liked another who taught me some things that I wish to find and not find when I meet you.
I hope you make me laugh so that the corners of my eyes wrinkle as I laugh a hearty laugh. I hope you are tall enough to tower over me enough (that would not be a difficult feat as I am quite lacking in height) so that I can still dream of an embrace that I expect would be as warm as a blanket during the cold January nights. I hope you can see me more special than the next girl and find my attempts to continue a joke more amusing than annoying. I hope you can understand that I responsibility is my thing and I feel the need to be clean and organised every now and then. I hope you can care for me as much as I care for other people, that you can make me believe that caring for people is not a worthless act of self-sacrifice.
I hope that I could meet you before my friends could. I want my feelings for you to bud out of friendship and there would be no greater feeling than to see you take an effort and get along with my friends but I want you to be my friend first. It is a selfish thing but I have learned that I have lurking feelings of jealousy when you share a more intimate relationship with others than with me. I do not want to possess you but it will hurt me to look at you from afar.
I wish I will be that girl you paid more attention to. I wish I could be the first to hear your stories about family and tear-jerking experiences you seldom share. I wish it was my hair that you played with. I wish it was my lap you asked permission to lay on. I wish you would take an effort to tell me when you change your number. I wish you could start our chat on Facebook first. I wish I had reason to pay attention to my phone, for your messages, and that I would not wait in vain. I wish that we could share our favourite novels and talk about the characters on our favourite television shows and perhaps you could invite me to see that new movie screening in cinemas. I wish you’d give in whenever we have arguments and choose me when you are asked who you would save in a sinking ship. I wish I would feel secure liking you, that I am enough and I do not need to be someone else. I wish I could write about you, not with thoughts of heartbreak and tears in my eyes but with little smiles from the corners of my lips and beautiful, happy love songs.
May you point out that there is something in my hair and be the one to take it out when I cannot see it, without getting grossed out of whatever it might be. May you never say that I am the “downer of moods” but that I cheer you up instead. May you be the person I can confess my heart out to without fear of judgement, shame, and everything in between. And may I be a woman worthy for you to put up with all these demands.
There is music amidst the noise
But there is no peace
The sun shines again
Only after a little rain has fallen
Making me aware
Of the wounds that never healed
And that they have yet to turn into scars
I bask in the glory of solitude
Wanting only to close my eyes
For a minute, for an hour, forever.