I can’t believe how my eyes winced, trying to dam tears just by hearing your voice on the other end of the line. Feel so close yet so distant. It’s strange, never thought I could feel this way with you. Embarrassing to say that talking to you gave me waves of nostalgia.
This brings me back to times when we spent way too much time listening to each other’s voice notes on Saturday nights. (You knew I have always hated voice notes, I never liked talking over the phone, and I will always do). We either talked about your favorite shows I’ve heard gazillions of times before or about how much we wanted to die.
Life’s less romantic when you don’t want to die, you told me so. We had the tendency to romanticize our pains to keep ourselves afloat. I painted our misery with peach tones and you turned grief into prose.
I pray that you never feel that way ever again. But do you miss them, those late night talks with me?
Have you ever reminisced about the peach and purple hues on the sky above our old school’s roofs? The day you told me all your secrets and fears and dreams? We shared life plans, indulged ourselves in a world of make-believe and wishful thinking. None of us pointed out how we didn’t exist in each other’s daydream of the future (maybe our imagination is slowly becoming the prophecy). It’s inevitable, we chose to walk down different paths and keep pretending we don’t notice how far we’ve drifted apart.
We are on a fine line between something and nothing; friends or strangers — Every so often you texted me and I never know how to reply other than to talk about old times and all the things we’ve outgrown. For years I’ve built a library stored with in-depth knowledge of you, now it’s all outdated. What do I do with these leftover pieces of information? Where do I put it down? Is the “you” I knew from the echoes of my past still exist? Do I still know you?
I remember the pattern of your phone password, I wonder if you have changed it. Every day I walk past your former home and it stays the same despite being surrounded by new residences. Everyone, including you, has changed nicknames but I didn’t. I should’ve done it earlier, maybe I might do it next year. Wasn’t I the one who was so adamant on leaving the past behind right where it was supposed to be? So why am I the only one who’s stuck, who haven’t move forward when everyone already has?
I wanted to tell you that last Friday, I ran into your ex-crush on the street but I know you already moved on. We glanced at each other, he probably thought I looked familiar. I still don’t get why you were so head over heels for him though, I always thought he wasn’t good for you, but I would never disturb your process of being in love. You looked lovely, back then, with heart full of love to give.
I no longer know who’s the lucky person you give the abundance of your feelings to. Nonetheless, you will always be someone with outpouring of love, I’m sure (and I hope you get the same, because to me, you deserve all the love the universe can give).
For me, the more you love someone, the more you feel the need to apologize. Forgive me for always dwelling up in melancholia and not being my best self when you’re around. I can be too much and too little at times. Forgive me for being a nuisance with my not-so special presence. We get close at a weird, terrible period of my life and I can’t help but cling onto that phase whenever I’m with you.
Lately, I realized how horrible of a friend I was towards you. I should’ve been a better friend but I was too caught up in my own heartache — yet, despite everything, you were always there. I wonder why. No matter how I think about it, I don’t understand how you’re so willing to stay friends with me all this time, perhaps out of pity or an act of benevolence? I can’t say for sure.
I have this habit of severing ties with people I have known for far too long as if there’s an expiry date for a relationship — but not with you. I can’t wait to wish you a happy birthday every year, and yes, I know damn well you think birthdays are nonsense, but I hope you understand it is my way of saying “(I love you and) I’m glad you’re still here”.
I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted, even the unaccounted dreams and lost hopes you’ve forgotten about. And I hope the world become nicer to you, to both of us. Then we can meet each other someday, twenty or thirty years later, to talk about how far we’ve become.
I hope you still remember me by then.
These are the words I wish I could tell you out loud on the phone — but I’ll just left it unsaid. This is just another occasional phone call, after all, where we only exchanged “how are you” and “fine, the usual”.
Though, I do hope that somehow, these words could reach you.
Best regards,
N, August 2023.
