Hi, 10.
You know, this
whole thing is actually pretty funny.
I’ve been
deactivating my account for the past 2 weeks, and a few nights ago I kind of missed it so I went back online for a few minutes – and then it dawned on me
that I haven’t been talking to you for more than a month, and I’ve been missing
you like hell – and so I went to your account, thinking that I won’t find
anything new because that’s how you always treat your social media accounts –
you left them to dust. I figured that it was a really coward move, but I’m not
ready to say hi to you again, not when I’m still suffocated by all the feels I
feel towards you – but then not talking to you kills me, and I just wanted to
know if you’re okay.
But you see, here’s
the funny thing about fate: it toys with you when you least expect it.
Turns out, there’s
a new answer I haven’t seen since the last time I went to your page (which was
a few months ago, if I remembered correctly).
You don’t mention
any name. In fact, I probably shouldn’t think it’s for me. It was a really
short passage, and I feel myself trembling as I proceeded to read the whole
answer.
No, no, no, no you
got it all wrong, the voice in my head says. This
isn’t how it supposed to be. This isn’t how I want this to end. This isn’t how
I want you to feel.
You are not
supposed to say sorry.
I never wanted you
to feel sorry because for the most part, my feelings are NOT your
responsibility. I never expect you to take care of them. They are MY
responsibility, and my feelings towards you aren’t something I expect you to
handle.
Throughout the past
6 years of being emotionally invested in you, I know well that my feelings are
never going to be reciprocated. So you should just… chill. This whole thing
isn’t your fault, and it never going to be yours.
It sparks so many
emotions within me – I feel like punching you and hug you at the same time.
Even after I left you with a vague (in my defense, it was pretty clear but my
friends don’t think so) message, and after a few weeks not talking to each
other – you still got me.
“Sometimes I reach my phone, spontaneously typing to
tell you a joke or just letting you know some random stuff. But I stopped
shortly after - realizing it won't reach you anymore”,
you wrote, and I bawled right at the end of the sentence because I remember a
few nights before this – that particular night I spent at Ei’s library in
Bandung – crying over three things, and one of them is you. One of them is the
fact that I have been, and still am struggling SO HARD to not tell you a bit of
my life like I always do. And it pains me. That is the kind of pain that’s
never going to heal – at least not in a long time. For the past 6 years, you
have been a part of my normalcy – my routine – that ripping that away feels
like ripping a part of my body.
I
cried at the truth in your sentence – that whatever you sent me isn’t going to
reach me anymore because I blocked you. It was not an act out of hatred, but
it’s more of an act out of despair – because I hate how easy it was for me to
rely on you; to think that you’re the one who can get me out of this misery
even when I know very well that you’re also the cause of this misery.
I
remember the first time I did that. I was mad at you for something I can’t even
remember. I was so, so mad, that I felt the need to not seeing your messages
because whatever you say will make me angry. And I don’t like myself when I’m
angry at you, so I did that. I blocked you for 3 days, and the next day you
texted me asking if I were okay. I was on my way to campus and I almost cried
because as much as you’re hurting me, you always come back and pick me up
again, making sure that I’m okay.
“Reading
back our chat logs I was once again reminded of how cold I've been sometimes. I
am sorry”, was
the next sentence that you wrote.
This
is the part where I want to rip my head off because you finally realized that
you are indeed, a very cold person – and it often annoys me because I’ve spent
years dealing with your impatience and stubbornness and yet your coldness
doesn’t seem to melt even for me.
I
am sorry.
Those
words ringed through me and I hate that you feel the need to say sorry.
You
are NOT supposed to feel sorry because it was never your fault on the first
place.
How
could it be your fault when I was the one who decided to leave?
How
could it be your fault when I was the one with the overflowing feelings?
How
could it be your fault I was the one who promised you that I’ll always be there for you, that
I got your back; and yet I was the one who didn’t keep my own words?
It
was never your fault. And it never is.
I
wish there’s a way that you could read this. I want so much for you to know
that this isn’t your fault, that I never blame you, and that I wish you nothing
but happiness.
I
hate that I consider you as my best friend – one of the best I’ve ever had –
but I was the one who ruined our friendship. I hate that whenever I talk about
“best friend”, your face was the first one that popped into my mind and it
automatically put a smile on my face because it’s true. You are my best friend
and I’m grateful to have you, but these damn feelings are too much to handle.
I
am sorry for making you think that you could trust me – that I’d never leave;
that I’d always be that person who you can tell everything without thinking
twice. I’m sorry for doing the exact opposite of what a good best friend should do.
“Goodbye
is hard for me but I know it will be harder for you otherwise. I'm not good
with words but this much I can say. I will miss you.”
This
was your last passage.
But
it will be harder for you otherwise, you wrote, but honey, no: that’s where you
got me wrong.
It
is as hard for me as it is for you. Goodbye was never easy. Even when I seem
like I enjoy my life after I spoke to you for the last time, that doesn’t make
it less hard. I woke up every damn day trying not to vanish into thin air or
losing any piece of myself because it was never easy without you around. You
are my normalcy, I told you that – and normalcy gives you strength. Taking
normalcy away from someone means you’re taking one of their senses – that’s how
badly goodbye affects me.
I’m
not good with words, you wrote, but I’ve cried over your words for
30 minutes before I (forced myself to) pass out because I had a busy day ahead.
I
will miss you, you
wrote, and I can only nod at that.
I
will, too. And I would probably never stop doing that because all my life, the
love I feel towards you is the strongest kind I ever felt outside of loving my
family. And it scares me, but I am always grateful for that because it taught
me a lot of things, and above all: it brought me to you.
I
hope the sun shines one day and we get the chance to meet again, and hopefully
when that day comes, we have grown into a better person.
I
told you last time that I needed a time out, and I look forward to the day
where we see each other without a tiny bit of anger because I am dying to say
this to you:
time
out doesn't last forever.
And
so, until that day arrives,
take
care.
I
love you, and I always will, and please do remember that I wish you all the
happiness in the world.
Always.
P.S.:
I'm
sorry that I have to put this out publicly, because I don't know how to reach
you. Funny how 6 years of friendship leaves me a little to no option when it
comes to communicating with you, huh?
