Allow me to write about you before letting you go.
I write about YOU every day—since the time we first met, the day you miraculously accepted my friend and follow requests, the day we exchanged smiles and so many little moments we shared but "only I can remember," "only I know."
People like me nowadays are rare and may sound weird and old school but yes, I write about you every day. In a notebook. With exact dates and places. Right after the 8th of June, you became one of the few who had strengthened my belief on how amazing God's timing is—knowing that in a huge university, roads and paths would still cross even in the hallways or in the library. To me, you are one of the evidences left in this world proving how perfect God's timing is. That is why I sacrificed so many words for you in a notebook.
Seeing you even from afar always made me happy. Every day. Even when the day's about to end, you had this habit of appearing in the most unlikely moments. And you became the happiest sentence I could possibly write. Even by just seeing you or the idea of you smiling back, liking my posts, or leaving comments looked like a miracle for me. You became the exclamation point in every happy sentence I wrote every day. But I forgot that exclamation points could also mean different from being happy. Sometimes they would mean a heart breaking.
For 188 days, all I wrote in that notebook was how happy I was because of you. For 188 days, you were the happiest sentence I ever wrote. But I didn't know that you would just suddenly turn into a sad one. This was the day I had feared would come. I write about you every day but I guess this day would be different. On the 8th of October while returning home, you became one of the saddest sentences I never would want to write on a notebook full of happy ones. That was the only day I wished I didn't see you. That was the day I realized that exclamations points are not always in the happiest sentences; that timings though perfect are not always meant to make you happy; that there are people you just got to love from a distance.
I don't blame you for ruining the happiest notebook I had because it was still you who made it happy. I don't blame you for keeping me happy and then all of a sudden not. I don't blame you for choosing what made you happy. I should hate you every day but instead I do not because how can a heart hate when it's broken and still beating? It's just a shame how you never noticed that you were the one referred to on the posts you liked and the newspaper you commented on. It's just sad how you'll never be able to read the sentences I wrote about you. It breaks my heart how for me you were the entire book and I was not in yours, probably not even a single word.
I don't know if I should be louder so you could hear me but only words would come out from a heart that was too broken to beat. But it's okay because you have become somebody else's happy sentence and as long as you're happy, I am too. I would still write about you but this time in a prayer that you would have happy sentences in life just like what I had for 188 days, that a day would come when I would have the courage to talk to you for the first time and not on a notebook. To you whom I write about every day, you are the sentence I would never want to finish.
Sent in by Carlisle Caroro. Got your own story to tell? Drop us an email at candymagazine @gmail.com! We'd love to hear what you have to say. If you're lucky, you just might get published in this space, too! Please indicate if you want to remain anonymous. We're also looking for artwork and illustrations to use with the stories, so please send some in if you want to be featured!
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