I have a confession to make.

I spent the entire night, perhaps more nights, relentlessly pondering of what might have been; what might have happened instead if I hadn’t let my surfacing feelings dominate me. All were hazy to me. I can still feel the way my head stammered with dizziness and the way my knees trembled; I couldn’t walk straight; the ground magnified in my eyes. The smell of alcohol on my throat was addictive that it seemed nothing. I was craving for more. So when someone handed me another glass, I didn’t refuse. The liquid poured like fire. I liked how it burned my insides like how my heart has been burning for so long. So that’s how it’s like to be strong; to be able to show how you truly felt. I guess that is why I saw that as an escape. It’s an irony but that’s how it is; it’s tricking.

But does it trick the heart as well? That night was also one I haven’t been able to forget since. I spent countless nights of guilt.

On that night, a boy kissed me.

And it’s not the kiss I was guilty about.

Perhaps, I was guilty, because I liked it.

It clearly wasn’t right. I knew that. Despite other’s notions that I had nothing to be guilty about, I still did, and it nearly killed me. After all, they say, it was him who kissed me. And did I respond to that kiss? Well, I’m pretty sure I didn’t. So what was not right? Why, I had a boyfriend whom I honestly loved and who, at that moment, was furious. I had my reasons. Now, there’s no need to mention anything associated with the past events but when they said that women are naturally blessed with great instincts, I could say the one who proved that was a genius. There was never a day I’ve missed suspecting that he was cheating on me, yet, I never did want to think about it because at times, wrong assumption kills. For that, I deliberated all my suspicions as a product of paranoia. There wasn’t any outlet of the things I felt. I couldn’t lean on my friends either because I’ve became too ashamed to let them in my whinings again. I know I could’ve handled my issues better than anyone could have but sometimes, I needed to do something to ease the burden. I know it sounds pathetic, but a little alcohol cures. At least for a while.

So that very night, I went on my own route, got drunk and got kissed.

Perhaps, I liked the kiss. But don’t get me wrong. I loved my boyfriend very much and despite of everything he’s done, I would’ve never thought of doing payback or anything behind his back. But it was all so sudden. Little did I know, amidst the booming sound of microphone and the clattering of bottles and glasses and merriments, his lips were already parted with mine that I still had to close my eyes figuring out if that moment was real. It lingered there, unmoving, and up to now the warmth pressed remains raw to my veins. Like it had left a mark. And I wanted to hate that boy for that. Every part of me was already owned but it felt as if I was robbed from ownership. Suddenly, it wasn’t my issues with my boyfriend anymore; when I got back home, it was him. My kisser. My admirer. My friend. And my secret love, Dominick.

The next day, I acted as if I was angry; just enough anger to show I was, because it was the right thing to do. I kept pushing it was only the alcohol. And when he came to apologize for what he’s done, I’ve never seen him so attractive in my entire life that I’ve known him.

He’s tall. He’s dark. And appealingly handsome to women’s eyes. The funny thing was, even men found him attractive. He was somehow like the boyfriend I used to have. I guess that was why I always desired for his company. When I needed my boyfriend the most but he was not there, that guy would not miss being there with me and he could watch my pungent tears evolve to tears of laughter. He would carry with him a pocket mirror and whenever I have my crying attempts, he would place the mirror in front of me, just close enough to make me see myself and exclaim and how I looked hideous if I cry. I know it was a shallow way but it would make me stop. There were also times he forgets to carry the little mirror but his hands were always ready to wipe my tears as if they were only drops of water on his hands. It didn’t bother him a bit. And he held those cheeks of mine; wiped every tear where my boyfriend could no longer see. And when every time I longed for his love, that love that was so full of pain, Dominick occupied that painful space and wished if only he could make me happy. Yet the only happiness I seemed to be living with was suffering that kind of love I had in my life. As long as Dominick was there, the more I realize I couldn’t adore any other else in the whole world but my boyfriend. And that was the biting wit of it. It was as if that love I had have diverted; and as long as Dominick doesn’t leave, it would just be there; everyday, growing.

But he’s the one who had always been there. Everyday he’s there. To take care of me. To make me happy. To love me. To do everything. Why couldn’t I love him back?

I don’t really know. Perhaps, I was only seeing what I wanted to see.

Days passed. Weeks. Months. People going on, moving on with their lives. It felt as if I had aged five years. I had as if 1,825 days of time to finally make myself realize some things but not enough for everything. But somehow at least there are few.  

I remember that night. Going back there, conceivably ten seconds before that kiss; I had ran away from where we were, hoping that escaping would beget peace on my mind. But I found myself limping that there’s nothing I could do anymore but to stop. I fell on my knees to the ground and ducked my head to my palms. Somebody gently grasped both of my wrists all of a sudden and before me was Dominick.

“Hey…”

“Hey.”

I looked at him and he was already staring through my almost-sleepy eyes.

“You’re making me chase you this far…”

“I didn’t say you come run after me! Then go back! I don’t care!”

“Are you crying again?”

“Nasakit unayen…”

He continued staring at me. I saw him swallow a lump on his throat and I felt his knuckles tighten around my wrists.

“Why does he keep doing that? Hurting you? What did he do again?”

I did not speak.

“I will never make you cry…”

“I know you wouldn’t…”

“Then choose me…”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why do you say that?!”

“Because I love you…”

“You love me, of course you do, I am your little sister now. And I know you’ll do everything just to protect me…”

“No, I love you.”

Silence.

“Let’s go back inside.” I turned away to avoid his eyes.

Then, in a split of a second, he pulled me towards him and next thing I knew, I felt the warmth of his breath pulsating through his lips on my cheek near the ends of my lips. He pulled away and bent down again and planted a soft kiss, this time on my lips.

Again, silence.

I can never forget about that kiss. It was so far different from all the kisses I had; it wasn’t even torrid to say how fervent it was. It was just a simple kiss, yet, it altered every little thing.

If ever I had chosen to risk things, or make my life even more convoluted, I would’ve went on returning that kiss. But that was not the only choice. I chose another instead, and it was to walk away, head back and patch things up.

In a month less, I finally went on my own. Alone. Healed my heart until I will be ready.

Now I could only look at him. Dominick. And realize how much I miss him. Regrets? Perhaps, not. It would be unfair to his part if I went running to him right away. Maybe, in time, I will learn to love him, in time when my heart will relive again because if there is something that I would truly want, that is to give it to him as whole. Perhaps, there was always this fear that whenever he was around, I became too happy that I tend to forget how much I loved the other one.

But what is there to be afraid of now?

Just if; what if I could no longer revive what had been lost?

Until now, I am not very sure.

Your love…I can never be deserving of it…

I have a confession to make. When you kissed me, perhaps, I already did love you. It just took me a few wrong turns to see it myself.

*Things happen. And the smallest of things happen to have the greatest purposes or reasons. Somehow, these little things matter to us less and sometimes, we find ourselves turning our backs to the right things. I never intended such things to happen, same as how I didn’t expect that I could feel something again. When the world is finally peaceful and happy, I deserve that, too. Note: THE NAME IS NOT REALLY DOMINICK. 

…A part of me does not want to give up…just yet. No matter how much I try to resist, until now I’m still holding on. But how much more should I? Like what he used to say, our love was different. Time will tell. And when I loved him every day, he did so…always and there, we promised forever. Can there be really any possible chances that we could continue on what has been left? ‘Cause if only I know, then I’ll also know how much more should I still wait without my hope dying. They say that love only brings happiness…but why was it painful for us? I’m afraid I might never stop loving you…there’s too much sadness and I don’t know until when I can still bear it…-Diary Entry, Nov. 21, 2011

…I had a conviction, that somewhere down inside of him is that man I would ceaselessly fall in love with. Now, I love him. God knows how much. It’s just that…perhaps, I just don’t like him anymore. I have learnt that life without him is tranquil. Serene, but there lies this sense of incompleteness that I know he would only make as whole. I’ve known that. Because even for once, even just in what it seemed like a nanosecond of my existence, there was him. We were in love. I could’ve never wanted anything more. He has gone…like a dream. But if he wasn’t really real, then why can I still feel everything?-Diary Entry, Nov. 25, 2011

…No one knows how much I am dying; every inch inside me continues to wither, every second that I could almost hear them crumpling. My heart is clenched and it’s impossible to breathe without inhaling the wind which used to entwine us both…the wind which has brought me and him…the wind, which is the only invisible witness and carrier of the memories that must be forgotten. And everytime I breathe, it only makes him more real…-Diary Entry, Dec. 1, 2011

(Diary Entry, December 6, 2011)

I don’t know what is easier; to dwell with the memory as you go on with life or to bury everything and forget? Dwelling still with the memory could mean that the love is still alive. Whereas burying and forgetting is too much to bear when forgetting itself serves as a constant reminder of what has been real. No matter what choice I had to make, it took me three months to decide, yet I still remain undecided. What am I still doing here?  Everybody has already gone with their own lives. Everybody has moved on.  And I’m left here foolishly thinking that today was supposed to be our one year and 2^nd month. The truth is, until now, I don’t even know how or when to start again because no matter how much I deny it, nothing’s change and still awfully hurts. Sometimes, it is easier to think that that love he had for me was not real at all just so disgust would fill my heart…just so I won’t feel how much I had loved him with a love that still hasn’t change even the smallest bit. But today, I know I have to let go of everything. The only thing I did, that risk I took and it’s all for loving that person and in exchange, I get to be the one left behind. And it’s unfair.  Is this inferred to impair me this much? To hurt me with a pain that is too much to even feel? When that sole person who altered the entire world, and the only reason you get to wake up each day suddenly disappears from your life? I find myself waking up in that same day a countless times; that day when I woke up one morning realizing he’s not there anymore. But, it was also that day when no tears ever wanted to fall down again. But if I had cried on that day, I might cry forever because I know not even forever would bring him back. So I did not.  And now, the dusk must’ve faded away that it is only now that I can clearly see; like the flashback of memories on the verge of my death; but I had to ask myself, why all pure smiles and happiness? And those were the smiles he made for me. Now I feel like a completely different person without him. I know I am not supposed to say I can’t find myself anymore because physically, I am here. But we were like two persons combined; what he felt, I could touch it with my own skin, but now, I just can’t anymore for I am deadened; I breathed through his nose and seen myself in his eyes. I felt like throughout time, I was living with him. He was every piece of gladness I had, the only remedy of every burden I felt and when he was gone, he had also corrupted me of all hopes I had for myself. Every dream of mine started the moment he said I love you. I had some before he came but it was only then I decided to set my future and it was me and him altogether. I dreamt of being there with him when he finally finishes school, I also pictured myself proudly screaming with such thrill when he passes the Licensure exam. And that kiss we used to rehearse when the groom kisses the bride would finally come to life. I dreamt of cradling my little nudger as he comes home and warmly kisses me, tenderly looks at those little eyes of his as if everything’s too good to be real. Yes, too good to be real and true…the exact thing I felt every single moment I caught him staring at me as if there wasn’t anything else  in the world but only the feeling of owning me. And I wanted him to hold on to that feeling; I wanted him to be selfish when it came to me because if there was one thing I could’ve swore, it was the vow that I will be his’ forever. I didn’t see myself loving any other else but him even if I would’ve been offered a handful of better men, I would still choose him. He was everything; my dawn, my dusk, my left and my right, my north and my south, every little piece of who I am. I couldn’t afford to take a step back even if it meant holding close all the pain; if that was what it took to make him stay; I have done everything believing that love is unconditional. And worth it. My own happiness mattered less, and I found his’ essential to my own.

Many times we decided to walk away from each other. Because we thought our love could be measured by time. It was really measured…once…twice…but it was only then I realized we were only deceiving ourselves. I was only fooling myself. For many times he left, and came back over and over again…and I stood there where he left …I never left but I waited, unsure whether there’s still something left to wait…if there’s still something worth fighting for.  Now, I know it wasn’t all about time to test the love but it was pure dissent to face it…because all along, deep inside myself, I knew, our love for each other was prejudiced, yet through the time that had passed, it was myself which refused to accept…that no matter how much my heart does not want to admit, I knew…HE DIDN’T LOVE ME. Maybe, a little he did…but not as much as I do. He knows that. Perhaps, that was the reason why he kept coming back, because he knew I was the only one who loved him for who he was and no matter and whatever he had done. I never dared to leave and it was something I couldn’t have beared. I endured the pain that it took for loving him. Nothing ever mattered, not even that pain; if this was what it took so that he’ll stay beside me, he could come and go a million times he wanted…but still, I could go on loving him forever. Without doubt. Without looking for any reasons that I could find to stop…

I admit, there are still many things about love that I couldn’t quite understand. Or, perhaps, couldn’t accept the truth behind it; why once there was this promise he had made that he could love me with a love that was always and forever; why he believed not so long ago, that a time would come that I could finally utter the words “I love you, too”; why instead of saying I loved him back, I said to him, “I love you, more.” Maybe now, what I am trying to say is; when he had that much faith in him, did he also have as much tenderness…the adoration which had quickly vanished when I was only beginning to feel the same? Is love a game of chase? Of dignity or of pride? Or of the fear of losing? Is it worthy to win the game when in return, you lose the reason of your conquest? Would you rather win that game or accept defeat when vanquish meant the person stays? I guess what I am trying to point out is, selflessness is the most forfeiting love. When you fall in love, the world alters; you don’t care about what others think anymore, for whatever makes him happy and contents him, you also take it as your own. And you could do everything just to please him disregarding the judges of others who have constantly expected that you can do better than what you have become because of him. You were not yourself; you were lost, and it didn’t matter as long as you were lost with him. On the other hand, he could devastate your life and still, you won’t care a bit because no matter how things turned out, you had loved yourself with him. He did bring happiness; the kind that only comes once, uncomparable and yes…just once.

I would be more than willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant giving up everything just to spend another day, another hour with him…a time enough to feel how is it like to be in his arms again. If only it was possible, and if it’s not too much to ask, I would want for time to stop there; for the clock to quit ticking and I’ll never see myself letting go ever again. Yet, again, it’s not possible. So I’m grateful that reality does not consist of magic and ever-afters. The preposterous is what’s keeping me from the hope I knew I could endure but sometimes, it is what’s already giving reasons that it’s time to let go.

Me and him. We were supposed to be together in this. But I fought for us alone. He wasn’t there to fight with me…he wasn’t there when I needed him the most. Let alone the rain to pour above me, and he’ll only stand under the shade of a shelter calling out to me midst the hope that he’ll come where I stood, hold my hand and say, “If you don’t want to shelter yourself, then I’ll get drenched under this rain with you.” Unfortunately, he had chosen to watch me instead.

It is like death. Knowing death. Accepting death. Many times all I wanted was to let go…to accept things where they are meant to end. But at the moment that end is only a step away, you realize you still want to survive; midst the seconds that are already numbered, this is where your faith comes the strongest and the courage to keep your heart beating and to stay alive. When I turned my back, all I have ever wanted was to turn around and run back to where he was…I wanted to fight…for the last seconds Chance was giving for our love;  every second stammered as I took one step at a time away…away from him. Forever.

I had given up the fight. That was the choice I made.

How could you still fight, when the reason that you’re fighting doesn’t fight with you?

It is easier to believe that the love was not real rather than counting the days it was. For love is so insufficient itself, no measure of time would tell. If it has faded, does it mean it was unreal? We may not be together anymore nor may I see him even just for the quickest glance, but I could still feel the love…that love I always had for him. And every time I’d remember him smiling, or remember hearing his voice, I feel like even though his love for me remains a question, I could love him forever.

And it’s up to the sky to make him remember how much.

        It’s not only when you are alone; sometimes I think it is more when you are doing something. Solitude allows you to think, contemplate and rerun occurrences on your mind whereas when you’re unto something, that face never fails to flash within you as if it’s doing a replay; that’s when you could say how hard it is to forget. Being with others, I guess, never helps because it only makes you realize the sadness you have; humor is true to them and it is you and sarcasm. Everything is on your own self, it is for you to decide. To choose whether to die or continue living and meet the man he never was. I’m not sure, if it’s already acceptance or I am only getting used of the pain of losing and the feeling of being left, yet beneath this pitilessness, I can still feel the despair of not seeing that person you used to love with all your heart and the hope that one day, the sun shall come shining on me with all gladness again when I’ll wake up. No more misery, no more woe, so that someday when the time would come that me and him shall cross paths, I shall smile…and that smile would be remembered by him, that smile which used to be his’ and I’m now taking it back for someone who would at last deserve to have that.

Perhaps, the most painful thing was that I’ve always known he was going to leave. During the seconds he was there, I’ve always had that feeling it was the last. When he was still there, the happiness hurted me; all the time I had fought against the urge to cry because when he was there, everything was too good to be real that I have to touch his face just to make sure he was really there. I couldn’t look straightly into his eyes because I was always afraid of what I was going to see; and it was me…a very happy me. But I did because I never knew when he would be gone. I never wanted to blink… or to miss anything; I could never have grown tired of watching him, the way his lips twitched as he talked, or the way his eyes laughed, or the vision of him walking towards me. I wanted Time to stop there; whenever he’s there. But every day, the pain gets worse, so when he had finally turned his back, I spun around and closed my eyes because I couldn’t watch him walk away; and after counting for what it seemed like the longest 30 seconds of my life, I opened them. And like a dream after a very long sleep, he was gone.

I love you…

He didn’t hear it anymore.