An open letter for you and the universe.
I might have a thousand—no, maybe even a million things to say. If only there had been a chance. Yes, I had been admiring you closely yet been far with the thought of saying it. We were friends— close friends. I didn’t say it because I wanted to keep the friendship. I did not want to disrupt the feelings you will have for anyone better who might come in your life. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry that I kept being a friend to you. I’m sorry for liking you and not being the perfect girl from your dreams. I’m sorry I did not have the courage to say anything. I’m sorry I’m a mess. I’m sorry for being me.
You found me out months ago and at that moment, you wouldn’t know how much I wanted to disintegrate and disappear. I did not like the way you made fun of what I felt. I wanted to cry that day. Until now, remembering that moment, I still want to cry. You made me feel so small and so unworthy of liking you. I felt stupid. I felt like a piece of shit. Still, I pretended to be okay.
You asked me what I liked about you. Here’s my answer: I liked everything about you. Your weirdness, your love for science, your voice, your smile, your wrist, your eyes, your love for your family, your kindness, your humor, your company, your bubbliness. Always know that you’re a wonderful person. Inside and out.
Ever noticed that I stopped talking to you? It’s because want to slowly disappear out of your sight and out of the universe that you and I have been co-existing in for the past years. After I felt how bad it is to be mocked for liking someone sincerely for the second, I’m sorry that I cannot talk to you now that same way I talked to you before. I’m sorry I can no longer be that friend who’ll listen to you when share your love for science and the galaxies. I’m so sorry.
I no longer want to make myself tangled up with your name. But we’re tied with a common friend, whom I do not want to disappoint. We’ve met a few weeks back and I want you to know that seeing you and forcing myself to respond to your small talks make me feel torture— like my heart’s getting pierced and pricked by a hundred tiny needles. Laugh all you want, I no longer care, but I’m sorry because that’s how I really feel.
Stop giving me the cards “Naalala lang kita” and “Kamusta ka na” because to be honest, I am far from being okay. And as hard as I can, I try to stop myself from overthinking that your statements mean something more than what they really do. I’m sorry that I only expressed and am still expressing my feelings through writing because this is the only way I know I can give you an answer you can truly understand.
I wish I could directly ask you, but I have no courage to do so, because I think and am confident that a ‘you and I’ happening has 0% chance of success. That’s how insecure I am. That’s how incompetent I feel.
I want to un-know you. I want to break free from all these and want to have a world anew— a world without you. Pwede ba yun, ____? Okay lang ba?