For so long, I’ve believed that I can always help someone out with their problems. I’ve been made to believe, or maybe I made believe, that things can always be talked out. In high school, they nicknamed me “The Cure” because of my ability to understand and deal with petty love quarrels that are not even my own. Need I write this again? No. I need to write this one last time. I’ve given lots of ultimatum, yes, but this time, it’s enough. This last, I mean, is the final last. So I might as well, pour it all out.
For almost eight years of my radical life, I’ve known this person. Okay, since it’s last, I’m going to throw names. Remember when I said that I can fall for someone I haven’t met in person? It’s true, I did and this is our story. I’ve always refused to tell because I figured it will all be too puzzling, or unbelievable or so. But for the last time, I’m not going to miss a single detail.
I was 13 then, during the age of cyberworld and technology boom and everybody was starting to get a cellphone. So that’s how we met – in the world of texters or what they used to call textmates. I remember during our Health class in first year, our teacher asked why people want to get into a relationship. I was the first to raise my hand and answer, “For experience.” And that’s what I had. I could’ve had a live boyfriend, but sure enough, I wasn’t allowed so I transgressed against the authority that was holding custody of me by having a boyfriend that existed only in the LCD of my mobile phone. It’s not rare, I’m aware. In fact, I’ve heard of and even tried to resolve situations like this. But what’s catchy here is that our almost-impossible relationship lasted for more than two years. So it’s no more surprise that my high school friends still blurt out “James! Mejas! Boski!” when we get together at times. He was always the lead character of my stories. Odd, but ours was the relationship that was longest, among our class. They, despite seeing and being with each other almost everyday, break up after months or barely a year. But this curious case, if you can call it, lasted for 28 months. I sometimes doubt, too, that it’s possible. But it did happen.
I say to myself all the time, until when can we hold on to someone we have not been able to hold? After more than two years, we finally met. How can it be so awkward to be with someone you’ve known all that time? I wasted most of that time we had just either curling up and being shy or feeling jealous that this wallet is home to his first love’s photo.
Next day, we broke up. I wasn’t really sure if I understood why. Was it because he didn’t like me? Or was it really because he finally got what he had been wanting for years? But since he said he was sure about it, and it’s going to make him happy, I let him go and take what was rightfully his.
I never knew so much about him after that. Though it’s clear that I will still live without him, there’s not a day that I don’t remember him. Yes, four years later, I still (try not to) remember. He had become my standard, what I considered the best I could ever have and sometimes I’m still tempted to ponder on stuff like what ifs and could have beens. But I stop there. Truth is, I’m not even half sure if I want us to be back together sometime I know that is not soon. I’m scared that in the end, he will still find me lacking and himself unhappy. And that’s what I can’t bear to let happen.
Our story ended long ago, but only now will the book finally be closed. And that’s exactly what I’m doing now. I can not afford to be even the least of his worries and so I’m tearing myself out of all the pages so he can go on with his chapter without a villain to bombard him with dilemmas.
I know he can not read this, or maybe he will – if he will still remember me. At least I was able to tell him that I have no regrets about what happened between us. He may have tried to offend me and make me believe that everything he said and did was a lie but I know him too well that I perfectly understand.
Now, I’ll be saying that goodbyes ARE forever and I’m not close to hoping that our roads will cross again. But still, I have a lot to thank YOU for. And I’m sorry for being your burden.