It Was Summer

I knew you for a while. I knew you like I knew the back of my hand. And you, you knew parts of me that I'll never tell anyone. You knew parts of me I didn't understand. And then, we went our separate ways. Things had to change a bit. No more walks to that coffee shop, no more walks to the jeepney stop, no more conversations while going around school. No more jabs at my love life that doesn't want to settle. No more teasing you with your current rumored fling or something. No more us sitting on the corridors or on the stairways.

That's what we were. That's our friendship at the end of that chapter of our lives. That, and of course, there's me falling in love with you. Now, that's a juicy story right there. One that I'd tell people over and over because it was you for a long time.

You were my person. The one I'd text when I got scared on the way home. The one I wanted to hear about the many firsts I have done. The one I wanted to see after a bad day. The one I'd text just to say oh my gosh, I think I'm drunk. The one who I'll drunk dial in a bathroom just to have someone to talk to, just to let it all out. But you rarely answered those calls. And you never gave me the chance to get crazy. Not when you can prevent it.

When this chapter of our lives began, I tried to think that I'd move on and you'll never have to know. I can do that. I can try and walk away from saying what I was so dying to say. And I did keep it in. But there were days when I felt hopeless. There were days when I didn't like what was happening to me. I did let the opportunity of telling you go. But it gave me false hopes.

I guess I just wanted to get it over with. I wanted you to say that it's never gonna happen, that we're better off as friends. Because that way, I get to move on with no qualms about the what ifs.

It was summer. The haze from the heat was in the air. There was our version of snow falling. I sat beside you and started to say something. But I caught myself. I have to leave in a while because I have this meeting, I started to say. Oh, you said. What is it you wanted to say? I didn't know where to start. So I handed you a letter instead. Read this, but not in front of me. Read it when I leave. I managed a smile. I wanted to take the letter back and run away with it. It seemed like a bad idea, you reading it. But I did walk away and left it with you.

I met with you again, three hours later. So, I read it, you started. Oh, was all I managed to say. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I was actually fine. I was glad you read it and you knew. Just as I crossed that moment from being in love with you, to just loving you. Don't think about that letter anymore, I say to you. I have quite a few versions of that letter, all written during a very sad time. I guess that's why it's so emo. (I laugh). That's how I felt three months ago. I feel different now. You're a little different, too.

We sort of went back to how we were. We just laughed at my phase of being in love with you. That's the story of how I came to just love you. :)

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