For
an exact estimate of five months, I was separated from my family, friends and
to a very special friend. It was college, this vengeful warden of a scholastic
prison that bore great miles separating my soul to the entities that fueled the
very reasons of my existence. But now, I am back. Semestral break seemed to be
an unsung recession in our academic economies which at the same time offered us
chances to once again, meet.
After months of watching the sky
shift its ambiance from the amber gold rays of the sun to the silvery glory of
the moon, I finally meet my special friend. To be honest, it was not supposed
to happen. However, thanks to the presence of two of my friends, I am able to
dig out that confidence and courage—that has long been buried in this pile of
divergence which I have kept for more or less, four years.
As we have finished doing our
personal errands, we agreed to visit my special friend and to welcome her back
for going back to our dear hometown. As we waited at their paved, wet and
stinky porch and endured the highly dangerous mosquito bites, we contained our
eagerness and excitement regarding the comeback of my special friend. It was
this once in a blue moon phenomenon and none of us would want to miss it for
the world.
She peered into the window and all I
saw was her shadowy silhouette. I can tell that she has been stagnant, unlike
my classmates. She managed to stay the same, to be who she is as she has always
been. That’s what I like about her. She changes but manages to stay consistent.
When the wait was done, it was time
for that great visual feast: it was time to see her at last! She wore her
favorite color, which I assume is her brand. The way she came to our
sight was like this mainstream movie wherein the film starts with black and
then fades into the appearance of the genuine article. Even though her notion
was stereotypical, it seemed different the way she did it. I am puzzled on how
she could do and be the common and yet seem special in my eyes. There is
obviously a mist that blurs my vision to the truth.
The first person she approached is
our female friend. Obviously, she would first come to acquaint a girl. The
chances of her approaching me or my other friend who coincidentally, also likes
her would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack.
We decided that she should treat us
on some cheap restaurants or some meager fast foods, which, thankfully, she
did. There were four of us, which made sense, that there is a zero percent
probability that I would be the third wheel. However, the chances of me being
the last wheel exceed the perfect 100% criterion. And so, I was the last wheel,
once again. This always happen when my bestfriend is not with me or now
with my present circle of friends. I tend to be the last wheel and I am very
tired of it. They walked in a trilogy of interactive Homo sapiens while I was
in their back, tailing their every step as if I was a shadow, a pitch black
imitative echo of the living. I tried talking but my argument was blocked by
the cloud of experience that each of them is sharing. I wish my bestfriend was
here. She would connect to me as if I was an iPhone and she was a Wi-Fi
connection. But she is not, which made me, with no choice, endure the silent damnation.
We stopped by my friend’s house so
she could discharge of her load. We waited outside with the seemingly angry
dogs, hungry for an uncanny human scent. My friend and I chose to sit inside a
tricycle while she just stood outside waiting. All of the sudden, dimwitted
dogs came barking sending chills in her spine. She was afraid, evident on her
delicate panting and will to stay away from the dogs. She had two choices: She
could sit with me on the tricycle that I chose or she could sit on the tricycle
that my friend’s chose. Mine was nearer and yet, she still went to the other
tricycle. Her action was a smack on the face and the bruise that it left was a
pain of immeasurable amounts of del. My heart sank on her meager notion, which,
suffice it to say, is a bit overacting for a guy like me. But what can I do?
Watching your love metaphorically choose someone else is a pain invincible to
any cure that man can offer.
And so, on that moment, my emotions
came to a conclusion. It was time for me to move on. We’re on college, which
means, we’ll meet more people and we’ll find that one special person who is
meant to overlook our flaws. It is time for me to stop bathing on my daydreams
which are honestly no longer vivid for reasons I assume, is because my heart
has moved on a long time ago but my mind, it was still holding on. She no
longer had the same effect on me as she had during my senior year in high
school. Everything has changed, and now, it’s time to move on, let go, but
never forget.
I surely will only complicate my
aforementioned statements with my next statement, but I don’t care. The thing
is, I have moved on, but I will never forget. I still love her. She still has
this special place in my heart. I still adore her and she is still special to
me. But these impressions that she has on me, they are not that affective
anymore. She is now like this white witch that has charmed me and I am this
young knight who has escaped her succulently intoxicating enchantment.
I am not ready for a new love story
because I don’t think it is time to put the dot on my previous one. It is time
to let go and move on but it is not the right time to end things yet. There is
no 100 percent assurance on what I am saying. What I am sure of right now is
that, I have broken a curse. Something that I think is not meant for me to put
together again.
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