Sorry. Thank You. || Self-Para
It had just come back from a rough journey, but after the repair and slight modifications, it was ready to set sail again. By then, everyone on board was enjoying themselves, oblivious to the events just waiting to shake them off their feet and wring menacingly at their stomachs in anxiety. A storm arose, turning the small and serene waves into ones of danger and rage. It started slamming into the ship’s outer wall. The waves’ roars were ferocious; the life boats would’ve been devoured the moment it made contact with the foaming waters. The storm grew and the ocean was more dangerous than ever. ‘Waves would already reach the deck,’ everyone thought, and they knew it was over. Slowly creeping upon the boat’s sides, mass amounts of water buried the ship. The flood rose higher and higher, the passengers cried louder and louder, but to no avail. The ship, now a dark and depressing wasteland, lies in the deepest abyss. It awaits a rescue that may or may not come, awaits the refuge it so desperately craves.
It was ironic, no? How the very waters that made the ship sail were the ones to entrap it in its cold and lonesome clutches. His heart was the ship. Her words were the ocean.
He wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, but he was glad he did that time. He had an impact on her; he just did not know it was that great. It was due to his insensitivity ― how it enveloped him as a child would cover himself with a blanket at the thought of monsters in their closet. What he heard broke his protective cover. What was he holding on to?
He was lacking so much that it probably scared her. Was he serious? He was. Did he make her feel it? He tried. Did he have a chance? He was in doubt. And, God, he was glad he doubted it. It hurt less that way. It hurt less when she had tried to save it. It hurt less when she cried so much when he was leaving her. It hurt less that it seemed like she forgot all about him. It did hurt less, but it was still painful. Pain was pain. It only differed in intensity.
At school, he got awards for always keeping a flawless attendance record. Always present, always punctual, always prepared for what the day was about to throw at him. Today, though, was an exception. It was a different feeling for him: being late. The thought almost made him laugh. He couldn’t do anything anymore. He wished he had woken up earlier, for Christ’s sake. He wished that the cars on the road would have given way for him.
He wished he had been late for school instead of this.
It was clear what he had to do. He couldn’t always hope that she’ll be there to accommodate him. She wasn’t someone who worked for customer service, anyway. He wanted to say sorry for wasting her time. A part of him wished that she actually enjoyed some of it because he did. He enjoyed most of it and he didn’t want it to end. It was probably their lack in experience that ended it. It wasn’t a reasonable excuse, though, because everyone would’ve started inexperienced.
He didn’t want to let go because of some cliché reason. He would let go because he — also her, probably — knew that this would lead to nothing. Not because he made her happier; he would’ve still let go if the other wasn’t there. Straight like that. It wasn’t his fault. He just made it clearer for him ― you know, see the reality of things. They were just convincing themselves that they could still go on because who would want to waste their first love?
‘Thank you for the experience. You’ve helped me improve myself. Sorry for being so selfish. Everything was there to help me improve not only myself, but it made us both better ― made us realize that there was more to life than just studying and competing. You’ve probably realized that earlier. I had a hard time coping but you’ve helped me through it all. Please know that I did like you. Love even. Sorry we didn’t stick through ‘til the end. Though, not everything does anyway. Thank you.’
It was time for him contemplate again. What was he holding on to? Was it the feeling of not wanting to waste all that effort? Or was it the little hope he had? It didn’t matter anymore. It was not like he was ending everything between them. He’d always be there for her. That was his role, anyway, and he’d gladly portray it.
