A Case of You

One

If you don't remember how we became friends, it was a P.E class that started our peculiar but definite relationship. I had been in love before, L. You know that because I told you all about it, remember?

She was the first, but I was young. I had no idea how to go about all those cheesy things. I didn't know that we weren't even supposed to say those words unless we mean it; but I felt something. You know the story, right? So I don't need to dive into that cringe-worthy experience of mine.

So far, I have 314 words on this document. Having to recall old memories with her left a mark of distaste on my face, but that never happened with you, L.

Oftentimes, I'd tell other people the story of how I was caught into the beautiful mess of you; but all stories do have an ending. It just happened that I was given a tragic one as others would put it.

I've always thought that I was familiar to the feel of pain. I was certain that I have been cut by her sharp words of rejection and unwanted-ness. As bizarre as this sounds, L, I felt invincible. It's as if I grew layers and layers of walls around me, that I couldn't feel a thing. Then and there, it felt like I couldn't even replace her. But then, I met you.

You, with your captivating eyes and your voice that can calm seas; you, with your adorable laugh that makes you seem like you're out of breath, but in truth, I find myself to be the one searching for air; and you, who I am deeply and irrevocably in love with.

I'm getting a little bit too chummy, aren't I? I'm sorry.

I know you hate it when I'm like this. It's just that these memories of you bring about feelings of genuine happiness - and since I don't have even the slightest hint of bravery in me to tell you that, "Hi, I've been spending my summer days, writing. And you are the subject of my output," Whatever you can call this thing; a document, a diary, a journal or whatever - this, is about you. Such serendipitous memories of what we used to be lives in this paper. And I've never been more proud of my work.

It always has to be you, isn't it?

Cheesiness aside, on that faithful day, we were walking towards the gym. It was already our last period and judging by the looks of everyone in our class, we were sick and tired of whatever happened all throughout the day. The heat was too much for, let's say, the month of August?

I'm sorry if I can't recall the dates with accuracy, L. You know me, with my bipolar memory. I can remember things as long as I can, but I also have the ability to forget something as fast as 5 seconds or so. But everyone knows that I can't abandon such memories with you. I'm still deciding if that's a good or a bad thing.

"I'm not sure if I have feelings for him though," you were with Pat, a mutually close friend of ours. I was standing behind the both of you, and can't help but to overhear the conversation.

Again, I'm sorry for eavesdropping, love. I know it's such a horrible thing to do, but I was really curious. Besides, if I didn't barge my ass in that conversation, we wouldn't even be as close as we are now. Being a little bit of a snoop paid off, didn't it?

I nudged your shoulder and gave you a smirk.

"You have a crush!" I repeated, like a child.

You punched my right shoulder as if you're telling me to stop. "I do not! I still have no idea if I do have feelings."

Indeed, you looked deeply confused yet you still have a smile planted on your face. We kept on talking until we have reached the gym.

By then, you told me tons about him; like how he became a mutual friend because of your cousin, how he plays basketball, and how he would come by to your house with a couple of [mutual] friends just to coax you to go out with them - or rather, him.

I didn't care much about you during those days. I saw you as a friend, as someone I could totally trust; and really, I was right. Our conversation was interrupted by the gym teacher, telling us to get in lines so we could start the class.

Looking back, I thought that moment was the end of our stories, but in all honesty, it was just the start. Was it the same for you?

When I got home, I made it a point to strike up a conversation with you on Facebook. Just thinking about our old chats made me realize that it really has been a long time. I miss those days, really.