I have known you since we were freshmen in high school. We became friends, close friends, because we would always get partnered up to sing duets in school programs or little singing contests. That's how it all started. Soon we became really close, and we became "best buddies."
Best buddies—you came up with that title, remember? You said I can't be your best friend because you said you already had one, someone from grade school, and I respected that. I actually thought it was sweet that you wanted us to have our own title, or label—our own thing. I don't know what it was—maybe your kind heart or your sweetness—but I was captivated by your personality. You were just always there. Both during times that I needed you, and even when I didn't. We were always together. And I mean always, especially in Sophomore year because you became kind of a loner but you still wanted to hangout with me and I thought that was sweet because it usually meant tagging along with me and my all-girl barkada. That's when people started talking; they assumed that we were a couple.
Our innocence, our little bubble, bursted and I realized that maybe I was falling for you. I tried not to, even though many people said there was a very high chance that you were in love with me, too. I didn't want to ruin what we had, because whatever it was, it was beautiful, so I cast my feelings aside. Besides, you weren't saying anything and I didn't want to bruise my ego if you didn't feel the same way. I kept it up until senior year when I decided maybe it was time to tell you. I thought maybe there was a chance that you realized you love me after all and I was hopeful.
Remember when we were walking down the hallway and you saw one of your close friends and we stopped in front of him and said, "Hey, look..." then you put my hand around your arm, and shuffled through your phone and played the wedding march? I mean, who does that??? What was I supposed to think?! So graduation day came, and I finally told you but you didn't respond. Not once did we talk about it. We have mentioned it a few times, but as a joke.
You thought my feelings, my love, was a joke. You used it against me like it's some kind of leverage. You won't even say sorry—if you really didn't love me back. It would have been okay, I would have been okay. Maybe by now I would have been making some kind of progress from moving on from you, instead I'm still wondering, like a fool, if you ever felt the same way even just once. We're still friends, but I wish we aren't, because it's agonizing. I always hated it—not knowing things. It makes me crazy.
Now, I'd like to think that you think about me, too. That the most random things would suddenly remind me of you: a whiff of a scent of my old perfume maybe, or a new acquaintance that has the same name as me. I like to think that you see me in places even when I'm not there and you are suddenly reminded of our moments together—the happy and the sad ones.
I'd like to think that you think about me and think of how sorry you are, how stupid you think you are for not saying anything. For not being man enough to tell me how you felt—whether or not it was the same as how I felt.
I'd like to think that you think about me and all the things you wanted to say or could have said, but you chickened out or you just didn’t know how. I'd like to think that you think about me and wonder how much you hurt me. How your actions have confused me because you were doing all these things, then stopped and did nothing. I'd like to think that you think about me and wonder if you made me cry. I wish that the mere thought of me crying (because of you) makes your heart ache, your head hurt, your stomach lurch.
I'd like to think that you think about me and wonder if I'm happy, then feel a little scared and a little sad that I am, and that I'm being happy without you. Most of all, I like to think that you think about me and realize you couldn't live without me and hope that it is not too late to say something, that it is not too late to win me back.
I'd like to think these things because they are my own thoughts of you. These thoughts are what keep me from going totally crazy for overthinking your silence. I'd like to think that you think about these because I think of these about you. If you do, I'd like you to know that you don't need to win me back because even after almost two years of being away from you, you still have my heart because you never really gave it back.
I'd like you to know that you don't need to win me back because even after almost two years of being away from you, you still have my heart because you never really gave it back.
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