Day 9: Could Have Been
They were wrong when they said that the two saddest words in the English Language are “what ifs”. No. There are three. And although it seems to me that they are somewhat related it still hits every nerve ending in my body and it just hurts. It is the “could have beens’ that hurt the most, the supposedly aftermath of what ifs.
I didn’t feel the need to go to school. There is this certain feeling in my heart that seems to build up and clouds every part of it that it just ceased to beat. My chest ached so much that I can feel it, that it almost seemed to me that I have a heart condition.
So what do guys do during this “brokenhearted” phase? I know girls can cry their hearts out. But what do guys do? Especially those allergic to anything with alcohol.
How could I just let her pass by without even trying my best? I tried calling every school just to know if Iris Greene enrolled in their school, most of them answered none, and the rest told me that they cannot give information of student enrollees to strangers.
Strangers. Not even friends. Not even colleagues. How can she move so fast? She just transferred. Why did she have to leave so soon.
Is this a test? A lesson? Something that happened just so I can learn something? Was she the person that I’ll have to know and forget to know because the heavens only sent her as my teacher? How can fate be so cruel?
So many things could’ve happened. So many things instead of leaving without a trace. Why this? Why now?
I remember that very first day I saw her, her scent, her voice, her face. All of it I memorized with one single glance. I could’ve moved right beside her and say that she’s familiar, and she’ll answer that we go to the same school. In that very first day I could’ve asked her name, could’ve gotten her number, could’ve walked her home.
But I depended too much on tomorrows that I completely forgot about my “todays”. There were plenty of times when I could’ve just marched in front of her and ask her out. I’m Aiden Wayland for crying out loud. But the feeling of 'first time' built up this huge wall of fear, clear as glass. That when things turned out otherwise the pieces would just shatter and cut right into my ego.
It did shatter. But it didn’t tear my ego in halves; instead it punctured every part of my heart. Yes, even the arteries.
“Wayland!” I almost fell out from my bed when I heard Kyle call from what I suspect, just right above my bedroom. I heard his loud footsteps towards my room.
He opened my door with a bang.
“Oh sheez! You look awful!” he said sitting across my bed and pulling the blanket off me.
Yeah right. As if he doesn't look as awful as me, even with his uniform on.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I raised my eyebrows in puzzlement. He is wearing our uniform, and the last time I check this isn’t Westville University.
“And you get to ask? Why are you not in school?” he said removing his shoe and rests his feet on my bed while slouching in my bean bag. A posture I knew ever since I met him.
“I don’t feel like going.” I answered back while looking at the moving airplanes about me.
“Same.” He answered then sighed. “Your airplanes are awesome Wayland, I never appreciated it until now.”
“Thanks.” I don’t really feel like talking. There is this some huge cloud stuck in my throat descending down my lungs each time I speak.
“So… she just left?” it oftentimes scares me how Kyle can know me inside and out. He knows me more than I know myself.
“Yeah.” I replied silently.
“I got ditched too.” He is now playing catch on his own, throwing the ball up and catching it with a baseball gloved hand.
“Sucks.” I said, not really knowing whether I’m saying it to him or to myself.
“I know.” He threw the ball up again knocking one of my planes then he bolted upright without catching the ball creating a loud thud that almost sounded as an explosion.
“And you know the fvck-est part? She ditched me and then dated Luis Sandrov. Sandrov of all people!” he lied back again and then took off the glove in his hand.
“Maybe love life isn’t our thing.”
“Well fvck love! I don’t want it anymore.”
“Same with me.”
“I really don’t get it.”
“What?”
“People always say that there’s this someone out there for you. How come when I found mine turns out I am not the one for her? It just sucks!”
I smiled. Not the happy smile. Not the letting go and moving on smile (because seriously that will be premature). The sad one.
“They’re all liars, I get that.”
“Well you know what I’m going to do? I’ll go straight to all authors, scriptwriters, songwriters and movie makers who blinded us with such bullsh1t and yell right in their eardrums that there is no one out there for them until they go deaf!”
“It was only James Blunt who told the truth. Only lucky people find who they’re looking for.”
“Fvck them! Let them live somewhere else! It sounds racist to me!”
We ran out of swear words that day. Ran out of spiteful words to say to those who made us believe that in time we’ll find someone only to have our hearts broken the next day. It sounds childish and high school-ish but I guess everyone have been through that.
I tried summing up my feelings into one word. But I can’t. Stranded is too storm-ish. Betrayal is too deep. Hurt is too light. Broken is too cliché. So I ended up with this:
There is this girl who left, and nothing has ever been the same.
