Bittersweet Reflections

This is not my email to you. I will write that one tomorrow.

This one is for tonight.

—

Babo, why do I always feel like its all my fault when you get angry, sad, depressed and annoyed?

There’s nothing left for me to say, since even when I ask what is wrong, you reply, “Nothing.”

Nothing.

That doesn’t help, you know.

All it does is compound the guilt I feel inside.

I don’t say anything because I might make you more angry. I stepped over the line already…what if I pull another trigger?

My friends say I am dramatic. So, heed their observation and take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Throughout the day you kept asking about that guy. You say that the things I say don’t make sense, and that my experiences and lingering memories color my present actions. You think that asking me about him will help you understand me.

But sometimes I feel like you are comparing yourself to him.

I don’t like talking about him- that’s why I avoid it. He’s someone I don’t consider a friend anymore.

But I suppose if you want to hear the story, alright. Here it goes.

The guy has a name, Irvin. I met him during a junior high program that took place at my high school during 7th grade. At that point, I only recognized him as a student from another school.

The same classes routine continued in eighth grade, and the beginning of freshman year. During the second semester of that year, we both joined the same club (AcaDec). That was when we really started to talk to each other. We clicked quickly- we were interested in the same things, such as manga and fantasy novels. We also had the same group of friends in that club, and hung out frequently.

We started getting closer when AcaDec started meeting late and we had to practice speeches. The whole team would spread out to practice, and we were often partners. We give our speeches to each other, and talked after that.

He liked singing. He like writing, drawing, all the artsy things. We sang. We wrote a story together (very epic one that currently spans 100 pages). We drew pictures together.

Anyway, at some point he wrote a love letter to me, and I wrote one to him. I guess we were both confused at what we were supposed to do next.

So we did nothing.

Held hands maybe twice. Never kissed. He gave me a Valentine’s gift. I gave him gifts that he liked (funny enough he likes polar bears. Everything I gave him had something to do with that). He gave me trinkets and the like.

I simply don’t classify it as a relationship because we never really did anything in a traditional relationship. We weren’t “going out.” People knew we liked each other, but we never did anything to confirm it really.

So it was kinda on and off.

He was never “my boyfriend.”

I never really knew what we were.

Close friends?

I don’t know.

You might ask, so what did I feel about him?

Well, I liked him. A lot.

But he never really did anything, and I just gave up.

Then we started not talking, not making eye contact, until suddenly we’re just not friends anymore.

It was one of those silly things.

We to a summer program together, with a bunch of our other friends.

He ignored us all.

At one point, I moved his position on my top friends list on myspace to a lower one.

And the next day, we weren’t friends (on myspace).

My senior year we didn’t give each other presents.

You probably think I’m stupid.

Whatever.

Well, to round off this long winded email, here’s what I wrote to myself back in 2007. About him.

So I guess you can take a look see and what not, because I’m sure you are oh so curious and my mindset yadda yadda.

And no, I did not edit this because that would take away from it anyway.

–

It’s something about being a senior. The feeling that four years are almost over, that a new phase of life is just around the corner. You know those four years that felt so long in the future during freshman year? That time of confusion, newfound friendships, curious faces and untold secrets? Times of darkness, times of light, times of the joy in finding something new and wonderful? Night lights, orange glows, that tentative feather of a touch? Voices in the dark, stories that unfolded, talent unleashed? Hidden gifts, soft smiles, exploring? Memories repetitively created, broken, forgotten, and built all over again?

Well, it’s all behind us now.

Only four more months.

Then we’ll be going our separate ways, to someplace, somewhere new.

To meet new people, travel to fantastic places, to obtain knowledge.

Possibly, perhaps, the forget all that has occurred.

It hurts, truly it does.

Despite the fact that time has passed, despite the fact that I see no recognition in those eyes. Acknowledgment? Only a flicker before it is forcibly snuffed out like a single thin candle in the darkness.

I once saw a fragile being take form in front of my eyes. Softly, carefully, and lovingly built by two pairs of hands.

Then the hold on it slipped.

It fell, dazzlingly towards the floor.

Seconds before, the hands reached out to catch it. The form cracked.

A trickle of blood flowed out of the white flesh.

Then it was repaired and elevated again.

One day, it slipped again.

Again, it fell to the ground.

Again, it was repaired.

Again the hands bled.

Again, it was placed in its rightful spot.

And this occurred again and again…until one day, it couldn’t take it any longer.

It fell, decisively towards the ground.

The hands reached out to catch it….

but it slipped through and shattered, into a multitude of tiny sharp pieces onto the floor.

You know memories don’t go away.

They stay in your mind for as long as you live.

You just keep replaying the parts that you loved, enjoyed, and wished to have lasted forever…until even those memories become fuzzy and unclear. What really happened? Did it actually feel that way? Did imagination take over reality?

I find myself reliving parts of my life.

Compare and contrast, think and ponder, stare and realize.

I’ve changed.

You’ve changed.

And somehow along the way, it just broke and it just didn’t work anymore.

I would thank you…but somehow, the right words aren’t forming in my mouth.

What was there before has been replaced by fear, uncertainly, and avoidance.

How that occurred, I’m not sure.

I would perhaps, say the same to thing to you,

I think I’ve said it before- goodbye.
–

I suppose there’s probably more stuff you want to ask me, but I will leave that for later.

I am seriously not in the mood for an in-depth comparison between the two of you. Sufficient to say that you guys are two totally different people, with the commonalities being: left-handed, favorite color is green, and both are into art.

If you keep on pressing for more information, all you’re going to get is more confusion.

So if you have any questions about this, tell me now and not ask again.

Preferably in an email so I don’t sound like a shuttering, bumbling idiot that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

It annoys me to no end when all we can talk about is this guy that I liked 3 years ago.

It’s like shoving the present behind the past.

And I don’t care if this email makes you angry because you’re angry at me most of time anyway.

Whatever.

By the way, one of the things I hate to hear most from you is,”Do whatever you want.”

So shut your mouth.

I’m out.