Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official position of Boiling Waters PH.
Years have already passed. A lot of changes happened. We were doing the best that we can in our lives… apart. And even after we took different paths forward, I miss you. I miss you but I’m not telling you.
Our story, at least from my point of view, was one of the many ghosting stories. It happened so slow and it happened so fast as well and then it snapped. It was like a roller coaster – slow, fast, slow, stop. I can’t find a better way of describing our relationship other than that.
We have known each other since high school but we were merely strangers who doesn’t have any connection at all other than being in the same classroom. I knew little about you. You knew nothing about me. We didn’t talk.
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We exchanged text messages during college. I couldn’t remember how it even started. We were studying from different universities and we were miles away from each other. I liked you. You were fun and full of sense of humour. You spent time replying to me and that made me happy. I was getting the attention I needed. But the text messages stopped eventually. I chose not to ask why. It frustrated me.
You popped out again when we already have our own jobs. I was really excited to catch up with you. We did. Exchange of messages happened on messenger. We were up until after midnight asking questions and telling secrets. We decided to hang out once.
We met. It was great, or at least that’s how I felt. We were talking to each other face-to-face inside a cozy cafe. I was laughing. You were fun to be with. I liked you. I went home together with a bunch of butterflies in my stomach. And oh, it was raining. Thanks to your umbrella.
Exchange of messages continued. You sang a song for me on the phone. I recorded it. You made me fall in love with you. I thought we were dating. The sad part was realizing that you said nothing about the two of us. We weren’t getting any deeper. I miscalculated your intentions. I guess it was all my fault.
One day you said that there’s a girl you liked and you’ll go after her. Of course you mentioned the name and I knew her. Needless to say, I was naive and terribly shocked I didn’t know what to say. I only told you about how I felt a couple of weeks after that. You didn’t care after all. I had nobody to share my feelings – of how hurt I was. I kept it to myself for so long.
I’m not the type of girl who chases boys, I said to myself. So I was heartbroken and alone. I stopped messaging you. You stopped messaging me. I continued spending my precious time at work. I hated you. I hated myself.
I wrote a poem about you. I can only remember a line, “Find a girl who completes your puzzle.” Now it’s deleted together with our conversations. No undo button.
I wrote another bad poetry:
I saw a beautiful house. I opened the door and took a step inside but I got lost in the haze. I heard hypnotizing lullabies. I noticed the cracked walls. Then I saw jars – maybe two, three or more. A familiar heart was beating inside one of them. Beside it was a new bloody jar. I heard the murderer said, “another fool”.
I don’t want this story to be so long just like our distance from each other. If this story happens to reach you, please know that I really miss you. I do. But, I’m not telling you.
