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To Whatever It Was We Had
Was there even an "us" to begin with?
PHOTO Samuel Goldwyn Films

I was in high school, and I had just moved to your school. We were in every class together. I never knew about your existence and you never acknowledged mine. I was fine being by myself, being the girl by the sidelines. But somewhere along the line, I guess you noticed me and began taking interest in me. I didn't know how to respond to that. So I decided that being friendly would cause no one any harm or trouble.

I was charmed by you. A little too much, a little too fast, but I didn't care. You made me smile. I was lonely and you were bored. Many all-night texts, sideway glances, smiles, and kilig moments later, people started to notice and began to label us an item. I wasn't comfortable being tied down to someone. I wasn't comfortable with them associating me and you together, because I didn't know what page we were on. I was in the unfamiliar territory of this so-called mutual understanding.

I heard about her. Not from you, but from them. I talked to you about her, but mostly wanted to know what our status was. You told me you liked me, but you still had unrequited feelings for her. Then you avoided me and left me hanging.

I was disappointed. Yes, by you. I was your little distraction from facing all your demons. I was your practical joke as you mentioned to me. It was disheartening, because I trusted you. But I was mostly disappointed in myself. I was beginning to like you and I opened a little part of me not many people see.

I let you in again, only because you said you loved me. I said it back just to make you stay with me, but I never really meant it. I didn't know what love was—neither did you. You were bored and maybe desperate to feel love. I had no one I called friends and I needed someone to keep me company. We used each other for our own selfish benefits and desires. We eventually started running back and forth from one person to the other, then back to each other. Then we finally grew tired.

Ironically, you never called me your girlfriend, and I never called you my boyfriend. I know you liked me, but it wasn't enough for you to even ask me out and forget about her. You know I liked you, but it wasn't enough for me to give up my individuality to be with you. I stopped whatever we had. Although we were more than friends to each other we never defined our so-called relationship. We were never on the same page. I guess that's why "we" didn't work out.  We created a fantasy of who we wanted to be, not even glancing at what we really were.

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It's been a long time now since "we" happened. I have never felt this better without you. I know you feel the same. I never cried about you, but that doesn't mean I don't care. I've moved on quickly, but that doesn't mean that I had no feelings for you then. When I hear about you, I am sometimes reminded of what we had. It doesn't hurt and it doesn't sting. I'm happy with the results that came out from whatever we had. I suppose what we had was never worth it to even be called an "us." There was never an "us" to begin with. But whatever that was, whatever we shared, it was beautiful while it lasted. 

Sent in anonymously.

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