And yesterday you were here with me
I saw him today.
Perhaps, happy is an understatement.
He showed himself when I was in the verge of tears. When I was looking down at myself and felt like no one could understand the pent up frustrations I’ve held inside for so long. He showed me the path once again, to speak up to people who might care and to tell them what I feel at the moment without doing anything much.
I meet my old friends back in high school and we have certain reactions after meeting for God knows how many days. I smile, because seeing people who have been part of my memories makes me smile. They smile in return and I think we feel mutual. But seeing him today felt different. He had a more surprised reaction than how my best friends see me after several months. In fact, he was astonished. I could had the same reaction but my voice was too low to be heard- and I’m more than glad about that. I thought only friends or acquaintances would have the same reaction, but in an intensity lower than what I received today. I thought of smiling at him because I thought, finally, we’re friends again, but i realized we’re just some of the egoistic ones added to the pile of people who had and shared memories together.
I feel fortuitous. but then again, I don’t think it is the right word. I think it should be something incomparable to happy, lucky. As we sat beside each other and I felt memories flooding back, like a sprinkler that was broken and the flowing water incessantly falling on my face, except I don’t feel like drowning at all, I feel like I’m eating my favorite chocolate while being drowned and that makes up for the drowning. He must be the chocolate.
I feel shy about our brushing elbows but I didn’t make any move to remove it. I wanted to but I felt intimidated, like he would feel that I still have some leftover feelings for him but he didn’t do anything about our elbows either. And we both know that we are trying very hard to keep it as controlled as possible, not to be very obvious that we liked it, except I don’t know if he liked it. Because truth to be said, I enjoyed it.
I wanted to describe the feeling how our hips never left each others’ side but I am more flushed at the fact that I even took note of it. I never really bothered if I would be bumping hips with other passengers but it was different and he
I saw his fingers and they were very fair. I remembered when I used to touch his sprained pinky finger, it was cute and to know that I am still smiling again at the memories hurt. Because one day, I have to get over it and start forgetting the memories, as if they were bad ones that I shouldn’t be remembering or they are common ones that are not worth remembering for.
He is silly. He always was. Before going down the vehicle, he embarrassed himself by making a noise using the bars. I looked and saw him not even wanting to look my way. I feel like he felt as self-conscious as me but I don’t know if he was as nostalgic as me.
I keep these memories like they would be the last one because who knows, it might be the last. One day, he’ll get married and would never invite me and I would thank him for that. It’s like wanting a sport so badly that it came to the point that you’ve mastered it’s rules and regulations and you tried very hard to learn it physically but in the end, something will just stop you from reaching your dream and you’ll cry.
All this time, I’ve learned that a person tries to deny his feelings when he knows he can’t get what he wants, and it’s sad. Because the most beautiful emotions-probably-are being left hidden. and it’s so sad that I have to hide this.
It’s the memories that fire up the emotions and I wonder if i had no such memories, would I feel the same? If all the memories I’ve kept will be erased and just essential informations such as his name would be what is left, wouldl I still feel this way? Would I still be happy about seeing him? Would I still try to deny the feelings? Would I still be bothered about the fact that our elbows brushed or we were sitting beside each other? Would I notice how white his fingers and soft his hair is? Would he be still that same special person for me or just another one of the men I was acquainted with, nothing more, nothing less.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I think he is my first