What Could Have Been

Answers Lead To More Questions

I asked you through text. Just like how I did when I couldn't muster up the courage to walk up to you and face the truth. Just like how I did when I told you how I felt. I hid. This time round, I hid behind a screen.

"What is this?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are... we?"

And when you answered my question with another, something along the lines of "what's we," I just felt absolutely fantastic.

Well, allow me to refresh your mind. Remember that one time I confessed my feelings? And you basically told me you liked me back?

No?

How great did you think I felt when you acted like you didn't understand what I was talking about? Did you think that pretending not to know shit, pretending to forget, and claiming you were drunk at the time (drunk? Drunk?!) would be comforting to me, like our 4 AM talks were platonic, like openly longing for each others' presence didn't mean anything, like all those moments were just as passing as the wind? Mind you, winds can blow down anything if it chooses to, and well, I don't think you realize how much it blew down when you came around. Pretty funny how quick you were to forget.

Enough about my misery though, let's talk about the nonexistent pain you felt. Let's talk about how you misled me, tricked me into thinking that this was requited, that you were going as crazy as I was.

Let's talk about how you pretended to be drunk so you wouldn't have to say it straight to my face. That you didn't like me. Did you? Did you even feel the comfort of those random conversations, those sweet words, or the discomfort of the butterflies or the swollen eyes from staying up the night before to talk to each other? To this day, I have no idea how you felt, why you acted the way you did, or if it was my fault. To this day, I believe it was my fault.

Let's talk about how you told me that maybe we should end this, that maybe it's better this way. But was it better that way? Was it better that if I hadn't asked, you would never have told me that it was all done for you? That as far as you were concerned, all of this was just a quick summer fling? I mean, sure, if that's what you want, but do you not realize that I was concerned as well?

Was it that one-sided?

I asked you through text. It was after school and I was in bed, still in my uniform, not exactly ready to face whatever happens, but it will happen anyway, so why the hell not? I had a good feeling about it then. I was more ready to hold your hand than to let go of you.

--

So, after a year... I'm back. And it's great to be back. And I'm back for good.

It's hard to get these feelings back, and since those feelings fueled me to write this, it's pretty hard to write now too. I don't feel as strongly as before, and I guess that's good. I'm going to finish this because I have an idea for a serious novel, and I want to share it ASAP.

Have fun rereading the first chapters of this book and having a series of cringe attacks with me!