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Philosophical cow dung on the life of little Ms. Imperfectly Fine.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

May we end up happy, amin...

If I could only take back the things I said and pretend it never happened, I let my confession slip, but not the part where I told him I found out about her and why he never said anything about it. I wish even though I knew, I had never let it bothered me; I wish I kept quiet about it and let it be.

Too late for that, I drove him away.

Guess to him the friendship wasn't such a big thing in the first place. It's so easy how he deals with this, by not dealing with it at all, by refusing to acknowledge me when what I desperately wanted was just honesty on his part. Sure he said he didn't do anything wrong, but did he do the right thing after all?

I thought what I felt initially was bad, the part where I was lovesick for him, frustrated because he doesn't know and wished that we could just be together. But I'll tell you what's worse.

What's worse than being lovesick is that you realize you can never get over it even though all this while, you're convinced that it’ll pass.

What's worse than being frustrated because he doesn't know is when you finally open up your heart only to see him not doing anything about it or say the things you wanted so much to hear.

What's worse than wishing we could just be together is just plain obvious, the wish won't ever come true because although he can make it happen, he chose not to.

As much as I tried to use reverse psychology and saying that I hate him every so often because he's such a snail and all the moments when it seemed that we connected were just pure natural acting skills on his part, I know I still love him, yeah, I’m using the L word. And if there is any hope of us being together, I'll wrap myself around it. I know it would leave little room for anyone else, but that's just the way I see it. Face it, I'm sadistic.

I thought even if he's not the one, the connection we have as two good friends would always be there. He's that soul mate I once talked about. I see us jamming together, playing futsal, staying up late laughing our heads off and talking about nothing and everything at the same time, looking at city lights like watching stars in the night, warming ourselves with hot drinks and old stories, teasing each other and stealing knowing glances.

I won't forget the little things he said, small promises that he made of which if he was to keep them all, means he's not doing such a good job of it at the moment.

If I can change what I said, I won't say I know about her and regret him not telling me when I asked. I won't say regardless of it all, nothing has changed, and we're still friends, that I'll keep it that way. Instead, I'll say "When are you going to get a new guitar so you could teach me that Gin Blossoms song?" Too late for that, he won't listen anymore.