this will be the last

It has been long since I last thought about you. Frankly, it’s been years. I had promised never to do this anymore – to keep writing about you, about us. But I can’t help but think how this time two years ago, everything was so different. It’s not that I wish I could turn back time because I would rather not go back and experience the situation again. I don’t miss it, I never had. Or at least I thought I never had. Not until today. Not until pieces of today reminded me of you.

The girl who sits in front of me in Art class told me that Hale was coming to town, and all I could remember was that you loved them. That was the band that you adored since you were 9, and Blue Sky was the song you made me listen to when you drove me home late that one night. And just like that. Just a simple, “this band is coming on Saturday”, brought me back to the memory of us – to that night when you said that you think you’re right about us, you said you’re not exactly sure of what we’re doing but you’re hoping for the best. Earlier today, someone put on the hand sanitizer you always put on before you do anything. Then it took me back to the time when you said that you’re not exactly a germaphobe, you’re just trying to be safe, because it’s better to be safe than sorry. I remembered how that scent always stayed with you for the rest of the day, and I guess it stayed with me too because whenever I smell it, you’re the first thing that comes to mind. Then my friend had come up to me and asked for help because her and her boyfriend are going through rough patches, and I thought about us, our first fight. We were six months in and we were screaming things at eachother and saying things we didn’t mean. I was scared because I thought I was going to lose you, and you are where I find myself, so if I lost you, I would lose myself in the process. Then I saw her with you. Today. I didn’t feel much, I didn’t get mad, or sad, or disappointed. Seeing you both together made me think about how at one point, I was standing in her position, I was your happiness and I was your reason. But like seasons, people change. Like leaves, we fall and leave, and new leaves come back. Sometimes we find new people that make us better, and I guess for your case, that’s what happened. I guess the reason why it didn’t hurt seeing you with someone else is because I know you’re happy. I know that she means so much to you more than I ever did – and I’m absolutely fine with that because I’ve made peace with the thought of you with someone else.

I never liked remembering the past, because with it comes the times that I was not happy and I am trying my best to smile genuinely again. Thinking about what had already taken place and also thinking about what could have taken place – they all come back to you and all the memories we’ve created.

I apologize for writing about you again, or for writing about us. It is not something that I will keep doing because I am so sick of it, I am so sick of spilling out these words and them just floating in the air, with no absolute purpose or reason. It won’t touch your heart, or hug your soul, and this is why it’s pointless. But I hope that, wherever you are and whoever you’re with, you’re happy, because you deserve all the happiness in the world.

———–

Hi. This post has been sitting in my drafts for three months. It’s been quite long that I don’t really remember what got me into writing it. But this is a product of my imagination and did not happen to me or anyone I know, hopefully. But here you go anyway.

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BITS AND PIECES

isn’t it funny
that we can know someone so damn well
that all these information
gets stored in your memory

frankly i remember a lot about you
things about you that not a lot may notice
but i do

like that time when you told me
that the reason why you were chubby
when you were younger
is because you ate one too many cookies

like that time you weren’t feeling well
and i asked you why
and you said you were feeling a bit under the weather
although i knew it was much more than that

like that time we first talked
and i asked you when your birthday was
you said, “september 27, 8:39pm”

like that time i came up to you
with different coloured hair
and you told me i’m even more beautiful
than i was before

like that time you were going to surprise me
but i knew you were walking in the door
because i knew you so well,
the sound of your footsteps became so familiar

all these information stay with me
and though at the time it was great
it isn’t anymore
and every time i remember something about you
memories come flooding in
and it pierces my heart

like that time i saw a little kid
eat one too many cookies
and it reminded me of what you told me

like that time i was the one feeling under the weather
and wondered if you felt the same nauseating feeling
that i had at the moment

like that time it was 8:39pm on september 27th
and i remembered it was the exact time you graced the earth
but i couldn’t greet you with love, care, and passion anymore
the way that i used to

like that time i heard a boy tell his girl
that she looked beautiful
with her hair the way it was

like that time i was putting my books back on the shelf
and i heard your footsteps
so i looked behind expecting you to come up to me
but you kept on walking

little bits of you stayed with me
little bits of you that i can’t forget
little bits of you that i’m not sure
whether to keep remembering
or to try to let go


I wrote this earlier and like I’ve mentioned in my last posts, I’ve been making poems and keeping them in my laptop but I thought I’d share this one with you guys. I don’t know how I feel about it to be quite honest but here you go anyway.

SOMETHING WAS UP

She loved him and he loved her just the same,
but somehow,
somewhere,
something was wrong.

They both knew,
but kept their mouths shut.

Until the day came and they fell apart,
and they both told eachother that they knew it was bound to happen,
and they said sorry,
but somehow,
somewhere,
they knew their apologies weren’t enough.

slowly but surely

She stayed silent for so long, pretending as if it never bothered her.
It did, to some extent, but she never wanted to show it.

She thought he really was different, that he wasn’t what people made him to be.
But he was, and much more.

He loved her and she loved him but for some reason it just wasn’t enough.
They were missing something.

He made her feel so special,
like she was on top of the world whenever they spent time together.
He made her feel different.

She kept silent thinking that it’ll go away by doing so.
She promised herself that she won’t ever let it bother her,

She sees him so often that it’s hard to throw away bits and pieces of him everyday just as she told herself.
She never liked the feeling of leaving or the sound of goodbyes,
and he knew that but he still did it.

Just last Saturday, she threw his grey t-shirt in the garbage,
trying to rid herself of memories that she so wishes hadn’t happened.
She loved him, oh God, she did.

Yesterday, she cut the photographs that had them in it.
It was hard, because every single picture showed how happy they were,
they showed every memory they had together at that moment.
And she couldn’t contain it anymore.

But as the days go by,
she is slowly but surely forgetting about him,
slowly but surely picking herself back up.

Home

According to Google, the definition of home is the place where one lives permanently. I thought about that and figured that my own definition of home isn’t really the place I live in. There’s nothing wrong about where I live though I’ve felt more at home in different places than in my house.

But maybe it’s when I’m with you. Maybe home is when I get to see your face light up or maybe it’s when you laugh at stupid jokes. Maybe it’s how you rock back and forth and slap your knee with your left hand whenever you think something is funny. Or when you’re right there, looking down at your phone and reading articles because I know how much you love that. Maybe home is when you ramble on about stories you find funny or interesting that you want to share it with me. Maybe home is the way you tell me to have a good day or maybe it’s when I’m feeling blue and you’re still there. Maybe it’s the way you make me happy just by being your total self. Maybe home is how you help me whenever I need it, when you give me words of advice to help me get through. Maybe it’s how you greet me hello everytime we talk. Maybe it’s when you smile and your dimple shows up. Maybe it’s how you sing songs at the top of your lungs. Maybe home is when you told me you’ll always just say goodnight, but never goodbye. Maybe home is me in your hug. Maybe it’s true, that home is where the heart is and my heart is with you. Because that’s where I feel like I’m protected, that’s where I feel like nothing can hurt me. That I can be with you, and the world can be out there, and I still will be safe. Because home is where you feel loved, and I feel it when you’re here. Maybe home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person. Maybe you’re home.