I dreamt about you again last night. Those soft lips and those brown eyes and the cool way you talked. Those subtle gestures I spent ten months memorizing (the way your shoulders slumped when you were upset, the way your jaw tightened when you were mad, etc.).
And in my dreams it's always the same thing: you love me too and we finally find the words to say it. Everything magically falls into place as if it was simply meant to be. We're together and everybody looks at us pleasantly surprised and with just the slightest hint of envy. They can see that it is unmistakable. It is not a lie. It is not a rebound. It is not a joke. It is not a fling. It is the realest thing for both of us.
I woke up and felt nothing because with my head straight, I know it is three years too late. From 16 to 19, I have turned into someone unrecognizable.
But maybe, in some dimly lit recess of my mind, I want to go back to being the girl you would've loved. The one you probably wanted. The one you had all those late night conversations with. The one you wanted to get alone. Ours was a love that bloomed before I was broken. I know I had my cracks but maybe childish devotion might've motivated you to look past them, or caress them with the same regard as my strengths. Maybe a part of me believes that if you love me, we can just press back space and rewrite the story, up to that night I decided to give up on you. Maybe you make me want to go back to who I was then.
I still miss her sometimes. Through her eyes, the world was much simpler and making connections wasn't so scary. But she was a small-town kid who couldn't see the experiences that awaited her beyond this lazy little island. Life for me now is not about staying the same, it's the opposite. And I remember clearly that she was so afraid of change.
Humans created backspace on computers because it was the one thing the typewriter lacked. We created correction pens so ink wouldn't be so permanent. Many times, we like to find ways to bypass the eternal marks of our mistakes in life. But we also tend to keep repeating them. I think it's important to learn to live with the fact that moments cannot be revised the same way an article can be edited.
I think it's important to learn to live with the fact that there is nothing left for me in you.
