Our hearts beat so loud the neighbours think we’re fucking
when I’m just trying to find the nerve to touch your face"
Andrea Gibson (via harperbrennan)
"I don’t want to get out without a broken heart. I intend to leave this life so shattered there’s going to have to be a thousand separate heavens for all my separate parts."
Andrea Gibson (via solidscraps)
Ours are always brief meetings.
Short-lived and fragile
We only get glimpses of who we really are.
Or maybe not.
You don’t talk to me,
I don’t talk to you.
I wanted to really get to know you,
But it always feels like you just wanted me around.
Maybe just in the corner.
Close but never too close to really see beyond you.
To understand you.
But I remember everything,
Like I remember the first time I ever saw you,
And heard your name from a classmate who’s been crushing on you. What a “weird” name, I thought.
You’re short and have curly hair.
I thought you were cute.
But who cares if you’re cute (well my classmate sure did).
Then we became classmates.
But I still don’t know you.
I don’t even noticed you.
I didn’t remember why, or how, or when,
But you started teasing me, well, almost annoying me,
And calling me “chingkingbiao”
Why? Because I have slanted eyes?
(Is that how you spell it? What language was that?)
You even called me by your housemaid’s name, once or twice.
Do I look like her?
You’re lucky, I don’t easily get angry when people call me names.
Well maybe I got used to it already.
My younger years were worst.
Kids used to call me “pig” or “whale”.
For goodness sake, I’m not even that “big”
Not that they should be calling names to “bigger” kids, but you get what I mean, right?
But I’m not angry, I’m just sad.
How can I get angry with them, when they are as ignorant as me?
I remember when you suddenly went down your knees in front of me,
And you started singing.
I remember being so shocked, and shy about it,
And telling you to just stand up, and stop singing.
Because my friends were around.
I still remember the song, “our” first song.
That was the first time someone did that to me.
I still don’t know why you did that,
But I started noticing you.
I remember when you wrote a “letter” on my notebook.
And I knew it was you because someone have already told me.
I knew it was all just a joke. And later on I found out that they were lines from a rap song.
But I went along with it. It was fun.
But that one letter you encoded (as my friends told me),
I never saw it.
I’m actually still wondering what kind of stuff you wrote there. I’m curious. Oh, can I also ask you?
Are you that “secret admirer” who put a small folded paper on my notebook? Because I remember you were the one who handed back that notebook to me.
I don’t know why, but when you gave it to me.
I felt an almost surreal feeling that there was something on it. I got nervous.
When I got home that day, I felt uneasy and still curious.
So I got that notebook out of my bag and literally shake it and started flipping through the pages,
And ermengard! Something fell out the notebook. It was that small folded paper (what was that shape, I don’t remember).
Words of confession from a secret admirer.
It was certainly for me as my name was written on it.
Was that part of your joke?
It was you who handed that notebook, so my instinct was pointing at you.
It can’t be our teacher, right? Or it was somebody else?
My secret admirer’s handwriting though was so close to yours, it was neat for an average guy.
But I might be wrong, that’s why I want to ask you.
And if that’s really you, I would feel vindicated.
Hah, what was I thinking?
I remember the computer class.
I remember your family tree and Fiona.
I remember your celebrity crush,
I remember when a guy classmate kept calling me by her name.
I got annoyed one time and asked him why he was calling me that.
I thought I heard him say it was you who told him I look like that girl.
But I don’t know, I’m not sure.
I remember the formation,
And the fake wooden rifle.
I remember the first dance.
I remember when Got To Believe was still a song
And not some popular teen show.
I remember the cotillion,
The same night you dances with her.
I remember the first heartache.
I remember the graduation.
And the unexpected hug.
I remember the first chat out of all the many online chats.
I remember the texting.
I remember the first time you called me.
When landline phones are not yet an anachronism.
It was brief but memorable.
And also the last.
I remember when you came into our house for the first time,
And you were the first boy I got to introduced to my father.
I remember calling you when my phone got snatched.
Because yours was the only number I memorized.
I don’t remember any, not even my mother’s.
I remember when you tried to put your head on my shoulder,
But I moved away because I’m shy.
I remember you telling me your future plans,
And look at you now, you are getting there.
It’s normal but don’t get too much paranoid,
I remember mighty bond,
And rap songs.
I remember the long offline message.
And all the things you said there,
I remember how it made me happy and special.
I remember feeling love for the first time.
I remember the first time I got drunk, and you’re sober (or are you drunk too?)
I remember you sitting besides me, and asking me if I could keep your phone for a little while.
I remember putting it inside my bag.
I remember feeling the weight of the alcohol all over my body.
I tried to put my head on your right shoulder,
You allowed me, and I was grateful.
Are you singing “our” first song again?
Because I thought I heard music.
I’m drunk, and I cried so much I don’t even remember why.
My friends took care of me.
Then I remember you were already the one taking care of me.
Would you believe it, I’m proper drunk but I’m silently squeeing
(And I’m not even sure if that’s the English for “kinikilig”). Burn.
Maybe Sheeran was right, I should get drunk to feel a little love again.
Or maybe not.
I remember getting really hurt when I heard you’ve got a girlfriend.
I remember seeing her picture and felt weird because one of my friends
told me that I kind of look like her.
I don’t like it. I don’t want to look like your girlfriend.
I remember being really heartbroken.
I remember feeling like I was left hanging for the first time.
Not that it’s your fault, nor I have the right to ask you,
But I remember feeling abandoned.
I remember the online conversations,
The awkward meetings,
And chance encounters.
And eye contacts.
Like we are speaking to each other.
And then you talked to me again
I remember your favorite tv show,
I remember you telling me that Gabriel was your hero.
I watched it, liked it but not anymore.
Our internet was fucking slow.
I remember you greeting me on my birthday.
And offering me some help ‘coz I’ve got a deadline that day.
But I said no, thanks.
I remember you went to celebrate it with me and some friends.
I remember you singing again.
And I was happy.
I remember us talking about going mountain climbing.
I remember me telling you how much I wanted to go on a solo backpacking.
I remember you telling me that you will go on a trip even by yourself once you graduated.
Have you already gone solo backpacking?
Have you been to Mountain Province yet?
Or climb a mountain?
I remember thinking like I shouldn’t be talking to you anymore,
But I did
But I had to stop and stay away.
It was the kind of hurt I prefer not to remember.
Because it killed me.
I remember feeling defeated, and betrayed.
I remember feeling really angry.
I remember waiting for you to say something,
But you didn’t.
I remember you being unfair.
You made someone feel like she didn’t really matter to you after all,
Not even a friend. Unworthy.
Why can’t people just be honest?
Fuck mind games. I hate it.
I remember seeing you again after a long while.
But much lighter.
I heard you got a new girl (well, not necessarily new I guess)
But she’s your true love they say.
Lucky you, finding love is easy.
You see, I remember things, events, people.
I remember you.
I’m just having some memory errors sometimes,
Intentionally, or otherwise.
So I’m saying, I almost remember everything.
But there are days now when I wish that I could forget almost everything,
That I could just burn memories,
Like how I burn old stuff from my room.
Like how I could easily turn them into ashes,
And make them go away up in the air.
I wish the wind could take away memories with them,
And to never go back.
But it doesn’t work that way,
Memories are like ghost.
They will haunt you whenever they want to,
Whenever you allow them to haunt you.
I find solace in your memories.
But how can something that keeps you alive, kills you at the same time?
You love it, then you hate it.
Then you’ll love it again.
A vicious cycle.
I remember you told me you don’t sing.
But you sing anyway,
Are you singing those songs for me?
Are you trying to speak to me?
On days when I’m really scared,
And having doubts about myself.
I wish you were there (because you told me you will be there).
And I would hear you say again words of encouragement.
Telling me to trust you not to listen to other people’s shit opinions.
I trusted you.
But sometimes I wish that I could show you,
that I could make you feel it.
How much you’ve hurt me, disappointed me, angered me.
How much you made me cry.
But I couldn’t, and you will never know.
And maybe I’ve hurt you too.
I am sorry. I am really sorry.
But tell me,
Was I really just an option?
A backup plan?
Or a joke maybe?
I prefer truth than silence.
When someone ask me about “our connection”,
I get dumbfounded.
How am I suppose to explain it?
I can’t even explain it to myself.
Surreal? Profound? Genuine? Mutual?
Or just plain Confusing?
We didn’t even talk about it.
Why would we?
We’re not really friends, are we?
We’re just strangers to each other.
I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.
And all there is,
There are so many loose ends.
Or just my thought.
I don’t know where I stand,
Or where I even stood.
But now I should know where I stand.
I have to tie those loose ends by myself.
I have to find my own closure.
But thank you so much.
Till we meet again,
Le first love.