letter#7: denial

Miguel,

I wonder if you miss me sometimes, or thought of me, even.

Like the today, for instance, you were telling me offhand that you were listening to this particular song last night and you suddenly thought of me but you cannot remember anymore because you were sleepy already. And I asked you what you cannot remember: the title of the song or if you thought about me. And you answered me grinning that you cannot really remember both. You always teased me, Miguel. But it seems that I will never get used to it and this fact is driving me crazy. You are an amazing guy; you are like my Greek God. And like the other day, I was telling you if you would want to hitch a ride with me and the girls in Chrissa’s car rather than catch a bus ride, knowing that your car is in a color-coding scheme. I added jokingly that you do no have to worry because I will not offer the trunk, I will find you proper seat in the backseat. You replied that you wouldn’t really mind being in the trunk, as long as I am also in there. I accused you lightheartedly that I am beginning to fancy you wanted to get even with me or wring my neck.

“You can also look at it as a compliment, stupid!” Was your reply in the e-mail.

I try not to look for the romantic side of everything that you say, Miguel, because it is always safer not to do so. And I tried not to look at their faces when they looked at us because the chemistry they saw on us is bouncing back to me and I do not want to expect something else can sprout from this friendship. But for the record, I could spend eternity in that trunk with you if you really have to ask me seriously. I can spend eternity anywhere with you, Miguel. You make me laugh and that fact is already comforting. I could get stuck with you anywhere and I know it will never be a boring experience. But one thing I finally realized today, with your capability of making me laugh come a downside. You also have a knack for ruining my day, Miguel. Like a while ago, you see. I do not know what the culture is back in your country but in this archipelago, you do not leave your companion in a table without telling her where you are going. I know you are off for a cigarette break, but for the courteous guy that you are, Miguel, you are supposed to know it is rude to leave a table without informing me. Weren’t you the one who called me over to share the table with?

I seem to notice a pattern. Why are you keeping me away from your friends? Have I become a mistake you want to cover as long as you could, Miguel? Because even if I might be very fond of you, and might have love you already, I am not stupid. I am not going to cling into you just because you have a knack of destabilizing my equilibrium.

“This is a very nice cocktail. Do you wanna try?” you said later that night at the dinner party, fully unaware how I was feeling already. “You should try it. We can share.” And you hand me the shot glass, Miguel.

We shared the liquor as comfortably as we shared our laughter, ignoring the inquiring stares piling up as we alternately drink from the shot glass, and the anger I felt for you melted as we empty that drink.

We have a funny friendship, Miguel, if we can ever call this a friendship. And it is making my heart bleed to death.

author’s note: I am beginning to see the ordeal that she’s been through. It was one thing getting over an emotion that is purely independent from that of Miguel’s. It is entirely another thing getting over an emotion that is taking life from his actions. He, like her, is dangerously trekking the boundaries of friendship. And as I watched Miguel did and said those things to her, I wondered of his intentions. It was easy to see that he is very fond of her; but fondness and love are entirely two different things. Sooner than later, he would have to face an agonizing truth as oftentimes, the difference between the two emotions is just a matter of accepting responsibility as one takes one step forward, into the waves and current of the thing called love.

letter #6: gloom
letter #5: fear
letter #4: elation
letter #3: anticipation
letter #2: discovery
letter #1: birth

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