I was a silent wreck when he came into my life, like an almost sinking ship that made a successful attempt to make an escape to the shore. My heart suffered from an unrequited love for a guy I considered my best friend. I have been waiting years for the same spark that happened to me to happen to him, too. And though there were other guys that captured my attention, they never captured my heart that wasn't solely mine.
So after accepting the fact that my best friend and I can never be, I knew I had to find someone. I had to slowly take my heart back from my best friend who was unknowingly breaking it. And boom, like fireworks on the Fourth of July, he came. He was miles away from me. He added me as a friend on Facebook. I told myself he can't be the one. I told myself, "This can't be the one you're looking for. It is all Beauty and the Beast IRL but without the magic and a little twist in the story. You are the Beast, he is Beauty."
Months passed and we still haven't talked to each other. I ignored him because I was keen on keeping my walls strong and high, especially because I knew I liked him. But then one lazy afternoon when I was so drunk on Hailee Steinfield and Douglas Booth's Romeo and Juliet, I messaged him. I completely introduced myself to this gorgeous stranger.
From that moment on, I didn't knew I was walking myself back to the hell I crawled out of, while slowly reconstructing the bridge I already burned to ease my access.
My feelings got stronger because of all the messages we left each other's inbox. But there was one question left in my mind—what are we? Are we sweet friends? Are we more than friends?
We never had a label that's why I always fell into a rollercoaster ride of euphoria and confusion because it felt like we're not lovers and yet we're more than friends.
But all along there were red flags I ignored—the signs of him being a bad boy. I discovered there were other girls he was flirting with. There was this one girl he was in an on-and-off relationship with. There was this girl, one I discovered from my exceptionally good stalking ability, who caused him to break other people's hearts. So I stopped. I stopped and my dysfunctional heart broke again. It was at that moment that my mind lifted the fog and everything became clear to me; I was not really important to him.
All along I was an option, all those red flags pointed me to this conclusion and I ignored them because I thought I stumbled upon something that's real.
It was there when I stopped that he never even cared to ask me what happened. He never even bid me goodbye. Maybe then that was what I was all about, the bland chapter to make the story long and fill the lonely gaps. Maybe that was how a girl who's just an option is treated; you are important until you're no longer needed.