15/3/12
This morning, I went through the compilation of your letters to me throughout the whole year, starting from late August ending at an abrupt halt in mid-February. It was a small compilation but of a slightly thick width, with the letters varying in size, design, and paper (notebook, intermediate, yellow ruled pad). Most of them were written on yellow ruled pad (a habit you started) with post-it notes up front, adorning the letters like timeless obsolete stamps back in the heydays. I can still recall using one-half crosswise in making your letters, then eventually due time it developed into the habit of using intermediate, bond or oslo paper, and soon enough I found myself in pursuit of your practice of using yellow ruled pad for letters. Sometimes in desperation I’d use childish stationery for your letter. Nonetheless, the letters often brought out the creativity in us, but you never failed nor faltered to be creative.
It’s quite obvious that during the time we started to write letters again, we already had some complication. It was the first “problem” we have ever had in the duration of our friendship. I remember it so vividly despite it being such a long time ago. I profusely scolded and ignored you the week you came back from the leadership seminar in Baguio. Looking back, I realized how immature it was of me to be angry with you when in reality you had no fault. I honestly had no reason to be mad at you. But I made tampo anyway—- leading me to raise my voice and scold you in the cafeteria. You brushed it off smoothly, but your letter conveyed how bothered you are. You expressed how affected you were by my bad temper and mood; that my problem just upgraded you into serious adulthood (if that made any sense). There’s a small drawing of me hitting a defenseless you with a wooden plank, exclaiming the acronym “FO” or rather, “Friendship Over”. I got a little touched by how contrite you are, but I didn’t think so much of it. Only now did I realize that cruel irony just reversed that very scene you drew on that letter.
I rummaged through the undated letters, smiling complacently or letting out a quiet laugh over the messages you wrote, the meticulously or sometimes lazily drawn doodles all over the latter part of the letter, the post-its placed randomly over the paper, and the special goodbye phrase we both began to use after resolving the biggest problem we had (unfortunately it is no longer the biggest one we’ve had). I had to smile at the different nicknames you had for me—-more than I can possibly list down, and all so unique and sweet. I laughed at the different situations you raved on in your letters (like when you forgot your Math and CL books for the exam), and I melted when I read those certain letters which touched me with your sincerity, sensibility, compassion, and love. I know those letters are only painful reminders of our dreamy, paradisiacal past, but then and there did I realize how much we…cared for each other.
Everything now just seems like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. I feel nothing but grief over my loss of you. I still find it hard to accept my defeat and utter surrender, despite the lengthy period of time we took to talk it out and sadly not resolve anything. Sometimes I feel relieved that I’ve nothing to constrict me from freedom, but sometimes I feel empty because your leaving me felt like an immense part of me was yanked out abruptly. It is only cruel irony that you ended it all, as I remember you being the very person who constantly said that the hardships and problems we face will make our bond stronger and closer. The saddest thing I recall you saying to me was that it is never too late to renew our friendship. Why couldn’t you stay true to your words? It’s really just sad that I lost you. You were so important to me.
“I love you and you know that.”
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