letter#10: torn

Miguel,

didn’t you say “why don’t you join the party on Friday?” in a matter of fact way while you put down two more books on my table?

how can I make you understand that your presence is killing me without the necessity of having to tell you? is it not true that actions speak louder than words? do you not notice my actions, Miguel? sometimes, i am tempted to think that you are doing the things you do in purpose. whatever purpose it is, it is not love. i do not see love in your eyes, Miguel. i see fondness and affection, but not love. and I am taking this fact in little doses until i take them all in and the meaning of everything started sinking it.

“it would be fun.” you said, again, in a matter of fact way. you did not press, you did not beg. does it matter if I say yes or no? i fancy there really isn’t anything in this whole madness for you, and that hurts. i remember telling you, “I don’t know.”

but I did come, didn’t i? i know you expected my presence there; i saw it in your eyes. you had kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “i am glad you came.” and for a brief moment, our eyes met and lingered. and that brief moment, which feels like an eternity, i saw us in the cafeteria that fateful lunch; i watched us at the back of that car that particularly wasted Friday night; and i could not remember, Miguel, why I hated you. i could not remember why it matters to me to exist in your normal world. when our eyes met, it didn’t matter anymore. this and the likes of this are our time; a world that only the two of us existed.

but that is not reality, is it? we will never be your priority. i have become a part of that world you do not have a luxury to maintain and the idiocy to embrace in your every waking hour. you still worship the materials; and I do not blame you. there was never any promise made to desert that world in favor of ours. and as I watched you walked ahead of me when you could have hold my hand and lead me to where we are going, i ache. the body yearned for your touch and cannot get it. the mind had loosened its inhibitions and had become vulnerable.

i watched you walked ahead of me, your footsteps taking a pace as if it was traveling alone. and then I remember you stopping and looking behind and found me. you signaled me to hurry up and started walking ahead again. i kept up with your pace rather than asking you to consider mine because I embraced these sacrifices, Miguel.

your world awaits us. and despite of the yearning that you may lead me into it, i watched you transform to a stranger i will never know; to a stranger i hated. and I began to stop existing, my presence slowly melting with the wall and ceasing to matter. i watched you, for the first time, laughed the way you laughed with me and my heart felt like a knife sliced through it. the flicker of hope that you might have kept me in the sideways because I alone can make you laugh that way finally rest to its grave.

you asked me why I was behaving weirdly on our way home. i didn’t give you an answer because I did not know which the right one is.

i know now. but i will not tell you because it does not matter. can you remember that time when you asked me if there was a time in my life i found somebody i would have like to get married to? i told you briefly about that relationship and how he and I have fitted each other perfectly except for that one flaw. i remember you asking me if it was worth giving up the relationship and i told you it wasn’t, but that i didn’t know it yet when i gave him up. and when I knew, it didn’t matter anymore. the relationship was forever scathed and scarred, if ever it still exists; otherwise, it had finally died away, along with the decaying of the leaves.

it does not matter, Miguel. Our relationship, if we can ever call this as one, is branded, marked, and waitlisted. i know where it is going and i do not have the strength to stop the journey. it is going to its end, to its death, to its ruins. and the hope that remains now is the hope that if it should die, let it die remarkably. so that, if i may have to remember its death, i would remember you along with it.

author’s note: they weren’t aware of it but i watched Miguel longer this time than i watched her. and while she was melting with the walls, she did not notice his one awkward glance on her. i understand him more than she could fathom him. she had come too strongly for Miguel, in spite of her confessions of being weak. he does not find her weak at all; he found her rather complicated. he does not understand most of her expressions but it looks like he knew there was something there. Sometimes, when he was watching her, he had that look in his face that i do not see everyday. a look that I am confident gives the same apprehension and confusion to her life. he does care for her but to what extent, it was not clear to me. he does not wear his heart on his sleeves as often as she does with him. and for the second time, i saw a fear in his eyes. a fear that was entirely hidden from her completely. and i began to understand. he feared for her that she may not always understand his actions; and he feared for himself even more that he might not have the guts to do it in the first place.

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