We’ve stopped communicating for almost a year now. Honestly, I don’t want to hear anything that has to do with her anymore. I’ve already thought I’ve completely forgotten about her, that no thoughts of her could actually hurt me or expose vulnerabilities in me, or so I thought. What I feel this night is like watching a sad movie–not feeling anything during the entire two hours; after the movie comes to an end, crying inside the toilet cubicle and afterward denying the act of crying in a lame manner despite the redness of both eyes and the obvious croaked voice. Sad.
I should’ve told my friend who told me about the girl from my past not to remind me of her next time even if she has already left for the moon to be the first Filipino to set foot on its surface. I simply do not care. Not that I have not let go of her yet, it’s just that I am too conceited to admit the fact that she has been happier in my absence, that her life has never been so good, and that she has never been more in love. These, I believe, are what I am more concerned of. I am a pathetic, selfish, ego-maniacal man.
I may brush aside these thoughts by writing until early morning, by eating until I burst, by sleeping until noon tomorrow, by reading my novels written by Russian writers collecting dusts in the corner, but I can’t. I feel the complexities of this emotion, but I cannot write them down here. There is a limit to what I can share, to what I can post, to the part of me that I can lay exposed.
I sometimes question the wisdom of writing my thoughts here. The truths I’ve written here are only a percentage of what there really is. I may have written my thoughts but never completely the complexities and complications I am going through as a twenty-something during this time when the only thing that is certain is that tomorrow is definitely going to be uncertain. For what benefit will it give me after telling a story of a girl from the past who will surely just remain there? For what benefit will if give me after letting the world know the difficulties and pains this girl is causing me tonight? And that I am too affected to admit that I am indeed affected?
I guess we all have stories to tell, and no matter how the world sees it and makes judgment on these actions, these little stories of our struggles, heartaches, failures, small successes, and love are as legitimate as any grander stories ever written and will be written. So that is why I am writing these thoughts here and posting them consequently because I can’t afford to keep them inside me, I can’t afford to forget them, I can’t afford to look back one day without any recollection of this night when I was haunted by the memories of the girl from the past.
Going against the current 