People say that heartbreaks motivate art. Sadness and or anger cultivated within a person make(s) for a beautiful piece that teems with utmost honesty and, undeniably, underlying longing. In Letters to all the boys we
liked loved before, we will let down our guards and share with the Steemit community letters meant for "special" boys that passed our lives, leaving behind meaningful memories in their wake.
These are words that begged to be said, but never delivered.
To the person I loved first
Letters to all the boys we
liked loved before
My first two years in high school were nothing but great. I gained lifelong friends, good grades, and nostalgic memories. On my third year, we movetd back to my hometown and started my third year life in a new school. Adapting to the new environment was not an easy task. I knew most of the faces, but everything was not just the same.
Months had gone by and I finally adjusted. You did, too. You also transferred from another school but you're so good with people that you even landed easily in a group of male friends. I also made new friends and reconnected with the old ones. I really didn't have the slightest idea that we could be close or that we could feel something towards each other because we were busy with our own lives.
I didn't know how it started but one night, when I was in a seminar, we were exchanging messages.
You confessed that night with just a text message. It was not the way I wanted it to be but you know what? I felt genuine happiness that time. You made me feel the sincerity that was etched in your words. You won me over. So, throwing the shame away and breathing all the courage I could muster, I told you I felt the same.
I'm bad at remembering certain things and it's sad to say that I can't remember what's the first thing that hooked me. All I can recall is that I easily fall for guys who show me even the slightest care. You were that guy. You're thoughtful. You're attractive and kind. You have a sense of humour that I was drawn to. You're smart, and you're gentle.
But then you've got to be the one that got away. You broke all the hopes I had for us. For what? For friendship. I admired you for that. But I was also mad because back then, I was not who I am today. I was not composed. I was just a moody teenager with a broken heart.
I assured you already. I gave you my word only for you to just give me to another guy. A guy who I learned to love because I was trying to get back at you. In the process, I fell for him.
I forgot about you and I was sure you did the same. I forgot about you until your friend crushed me.
I was in a different kind of low and I was playing the blame game. I was blaming you for giving me to him, and I was blaming myself, too.
But not too long, I moved on from him and I stopped blaming you. I didn't get into a relationship after that. I heard you were in several relationships, but I didn't think much about it. I only thought that maybe you didn't love me enough that's why it was so easy for you to toss my heart to the next guy you see. It was easy for you to jump from one girl to the next.
I couldn't help but ask, what if we tried harder in the first place? Could "us" be possible? Could we last a year or more? Would you break my heart in a different way? Or would you rather see me hurt because of other guys? What if I didn't get mad? What if you just stopped him from pursuing me? What if you just told him to bugger off because I'm yours to begin with?
But those what-ifs were useless now. I bet my life you wouldn't even remember the "us" that could happen. The could-have-beens were stuck in the past. The 'now' is what matters. I'm glad you're the guy I loved first and I was a part of your past, but I guess that's just what we're all going to be.
We are both happy now in the arms of someone else. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the lessons.
Photo by Jerermy Perkins on Unsplash
The Letter I have longed-for to give you.
A fictional reply by @mcramiscal to To the person I loved first
Photo by Suresh Kumar on Unsplash
Date – since time immemorial
Addressee: To the girl who I was not given a chance to love
To the girl who I was not given a chance to love,
Telling you how I feel is like starting this letter – I do not even know how and where to start. I do not even reckon if writing this is even worth my time. Or you reading this will change anything. And you might not actually realize that I am writing this for you. But just in case the serendipitous universe try to pull the strings someday to my advantage, I am taking the chance. I am taking that hundred-to-one shot that the future ‘me’ will be able to hand you this letter at the very least. Because right now, more than ever, I am still nothing but a coward.
Perhaps, let me start when I started liking you.
We both transferred to the same high school on our third year, when most of our classmates had already established a tight relationship with each other. You sat at the back, with someone you may have known from a distant past, while I took a seat in front to avoid looking the back of everyone. We were lost souls hoping to meet each other. For me at the least. We were apart. We were, most of the time, spending our time on our own world, getting lost on our thoughts, musing and searching. But that’s when I found you. Looking over the window, smiling by yourself. Not that I thought your crazy, but you were insanely cute back then, with your ponytailed hair exposing your morena face bathed in the afternoon light. Ever since, I started liking you. A happy crush.
Time passed. We became part of different cliques, of different circle of friends. We were acquainted but never got to be close friends. Not until the prom. This was the first time I mustered up all my courage to ask you for a dance, with still the pretense of becoming your friend. And you courteously took my hand.
At that moment, I fell. Deep. No, even deeper than I thought. For you. Like stepping into a mire without even knowing how to get out. But I still wished to be pulled in. To be swallowed.
I had loved you since then… when I realized that the two of us can never be together.
Few days back, my best friend had already confessed to you. But even before that, he admitted to me. His plans on pursuing you. His admiration for you. His “love” for you. He solicited for my support. I willfully enlisted mine. Foolish. With the unwritten rule of a bro code, I had let you go, even if there is nothing yet to hold on to because he left me with no choice. No, I left myself with no choice.
You see, my story was the typical boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy fell in love. Girl fell in love. But not with each other. Not ever. It was a clichéd tale of wrong timing. But this was the harsh reality. I cannot deny its existence. There is no other way but to accept. To endure. Even if it breaks me. Nonetheless, I had always hoped that this feeling may never become strong enough to break me. Because if that happens, I will not be able to put my pieces back.
Photo by DAVIDCOHEN on Unsplash
To you, I had come to know that you already broke up with my best friend and had not entered into another relationship since then. Had learned that the bastard took you for granted, and even cheated you for crying out loud. Sorry for remembering it for you. My first reaction, I admit, was fury. Then followed by self-pity and regret. I cannot accept the fact that the woman of my dreams had just been spoilt by a good-for-nothing guy. But the worst is the feeling of knowing that I still cared. Maybe lying dormant deep down, I still longed-for for you.
But I have moved on. I always cling to this idea. No, I have to. Or else the grueling past 5 years of coping up, discovering oneself and healing process would be put into waste.
Although my brain was wired up to forget you, my heart begs to differ. It still yearns that sometime, somewhere, the two of us will meet again. Without fail. Just like a miracle.
Then it happened.
Do you remember the time at the pool reunion? You probably never knew since you were very inebriated by finishing the brandy that was meant for the whole group while I was intoxicated purely by your presence. Yes, I was too drunk of happiness. We were left alone in the cottage while everyone was excited diving into the waters. I let myself get swept away by the tides of the moment. I lived for the moment when you rested your head on my shoulder. Is this what they call “briefly soaking in the experience of being alive?” I felt guilt. I felt shame. But I was happy. A faint glow of hope emerged in my heart. “Was this finally my chance,” I pondered.
During that short-lived contact, my neurons were already processing information of the future at the speed of light. The future of "us," neglecting the past and the now. Transmissions were dispatched in every bit of cell in my body, putting me in a trance. Vivid images began to slide show like credit rolls in a movie. The scene was a snippet of the ending of a certain k-drama I watched before going to the reunion.
"And just before I close my eyes every night, I wished that in my next life I would want to meet you again. Then I’d want us to date like other couples do. I’d want us to show love like any other couples do. I think I was praying for that to God. I’d ask about her to someone who knows her. Sometimes I’d stay near her place. Sometimes I’d want to impress her parents. Sometimes I’d memorize her favorite places and wait for her all day. I’d say I want to see her when I want to see her… and I miss her when I’ve missed her. Feeling nervous and grateful. I’d want us to date like other couples do. I think I was praying for that. And praying to God once again. Thank you, I am happy now.”
Has this been the signal of my next life? Was this my chance to fight fair and square? Entrusting myself to fate, and not to the dictates of the people around me? I did hope. At least this once. I could care less anymore if my past 5 years will be expunged with just a flick of a finger. Or in this case, an evanescent touch.
Yet, after that, you passed out. Maybe out of embarrassment or just sheer drunkenness or both. Faked or not, it didn’t matter.
But after that day, you acted like as if nothing happened. You casually brushed off the idea when I started telling you what had transpired that night. Nothing. The faint glow was far too weak, slowly dissolved in the darkness and left me with nothing but disillusionment. Nothing. You lived with the comfort of drunken blackout, while I suffered with my vivid memory. Nothing. Nothing is left out of me. On me. And here I am, still unfazed of what-could-have-beens.
And here I am, still loving you, regardless.
And here I am, regardless.
The boy with a broken heart
P.S. I hoped you appreciated all the gifts I’ve been giving you during Valentines. Yeah, right! You probably do not know that they came from me. At least two mysteries in your life have unraveled through this letter (if you ever read this). But still, just seeing you smile after receiving them is too much of a compensation. And I guess, it has to stop now. Forever.
P.P.S I guess I can't keep counting forever.
Photo by Chris Baron on Unsplash
One of the above letters is by one of the @coarebabes, followed by a fictional response by one of her friends. Writing has become an outlet, a medium of moving on [or not moving on, depending on how you see it]; and while this letter will never be delivered, it has done its part in her growth.
This post is inspired by the book entitled To all the Boys I've Loved Before.