She Was Sea

I grew up believing in magic and happy endings. I loved movies and storybooks; they were often my escapes. During my teenage years, I would spend all night awake, lost in a book by Meg Cabot just because of how wonderful the romances turned out to be. Needless to say, I grew up to be a hopeless romantic. My weakness was kindness. I couldn’t love myself properly, so when people showed interest in me, that blindsided me a little.

Thirty years later, life is a little bit different. I’m no longer watching the first sunrise of the year with my closest friends at the Tsunami monument. For multiple reasons, one being the monument has moved to the west, and my friendships didn’t really survive. Life happened, but I made new friendships that filled its gaps slowly.

How do I feel about leaving 2023 behind? I feel close to nothing. The year has been an endless disappointment until the very last day, and there’s barely anything about it that I would cherish or miss.

I often think of you, fondly adoring you in my memories. You were wonderful, not in a literal sense, but you made me feel wonderful. Even through your insults, I felt a lot for you. You thought I was nuts, and you may be right. But, man, I wish I never had to lose you.

I wish you could always be my 2 am, telling me you were downstairs out of nowhere. I miss your pranks, making me cry, the reality slaps—how hard they used to hit me. I miss you. Perhaps, you were the friend I slowly fell in love with, the reason I find boy friendships intimidating because with you, I knew how pure and wonderful they were.

I’ve known you for so long, yet I don’t know you at all. You were the boy who didn’t fall in love with me. Sunrises remind me of you, our thing when this city was more innocent and we had sinned far less. Time flies; life has gone by. I’ve come to my senses, found the courage to be truly me, yet you’re nowhere around. I don’t blame you; it’s best you stay away. I don’t think straight with you; anything goes with you.

You met me at 18, and I always feel 18 with you. I wonder at what point I started feeling for you. I don’t even hate it because I loved our friendship. I’ll never have a guy friend like that again; I haven’t since. I wish we could have an adult conversation because I don’t think we ever did. I didn’t feel grown up around you. You’d always point out everything wrong with my life, and you’d be right.

I just want to tell you, it isn’t so bad. I always wished you’d have been kinder, like when I met you. I wish you didn’t grow up to become such an ass. I’ll miss that boy forever, and I’ll miss her too—who I was around you.

Is it stupidity to think of someone so fondly even after all the time that had passed? To remember them the way you knew them all those years ago.

Ever met someone who altered your brain chemistry forever? Every after days, months, and years, when their name pops up on your screen, your entire world just feels brighter through their existence? The air I breathe feels different too with the thought of him. Isn’t that love?

One text after forever, and it lit up my whole world. I think in that moment I was affirmed that this man had really meant the world to me. And I thought the world of him. And I always will. For as long as I remembered, I had wanted to feel safe. And with him, I did.

​​I’m sorry; this might sound ridiculous. But I just have to get it out. The reason why I’ve tried to see you and even reached out is that I wanted to have a conversation with you. And I feel like you’ve robbed me of that. And it sucks that you’ve not given me that. Or even tried to. After everything. I wouldn’t bother you; I never have. I would just swallow whatever I feel and let it go.

I’m glad I broke all my rules for you because if I hadn’t, your thoughts would be a painful memory. The worst part is that the person you are in my memories is no longer who you even are. And I miss you terribly; I always will.

Now that he’s gone, your ghosts have taken over my mind. They were quiet until now, but it’s gotten so loud. Every breathing moment is spent with you creeping into my thoughts. I’m so happy that I got to feel even an ounce of your love for the short time I did; I will cherish it for the rest of my life. This I know. You weren’t meant for me, but you sure were my great one.

Sure, when the world becomes quiet, you’re all I think about. And then it hit me, am I in love with the idea of you? Did I love you better from a distance? Because every chance I had to be with you, I gave up. But then I continue to live with you in my thoughts, and those thoughts make me both happy and sad, but at the end I know I love you. And I don’t understand why I couldn’t be with you. Maybe I felt like I didn’t deserve you. I miss you every day.

This time it wasn’t deliberate. I wasn’t looking for your number, trying out random digits hoping I’ll get it right, and that I’d recognize it when the combination is right. You weren’t even on my mind. I was looking for a restaurant number, and after I typed in the first two digits, a very familiar number appeared. Of course, I recognized it immediately but had my doubts, so I cross-checked with the directory and there it was. It was yours. And me being the person I am, couldn’t ignore the surprising turn of events that brought me head-on with a number I tried so hard to never remember. And me also being me, put a deeper sense of meaning to it, because what the heck? You haven’t answered my calls in years, and not like you will do now. But I just had to try. Of course, as expected, you didn’t answer. And as expected, I was relieved. I call every time just to see if you would answer, not because I have much to say. It’s like a little game where I lose every time, but I do it again maybe in a year or two. I don’t have a lot of answers, and I don’t even need them, but I still wonder why. I guess you grew up, became the man I always said you weren’t. I guess I just have a lot to apologize for, and that’s what haunts me. These calls are selfish; it’s an attempt to devoid myself of guilt, and I’m glad you don’t answer and serve this self-serving purpose of mine. But after all these years, I wonder why you have nothing at all to say to me, even though I fully understand it.

You had to lose me. I wouldn’t laugh at your jokes. My friends would. I would feel an ounce of jealousy. But I couldn’t love you the way I should. You’d send me countless memes. I’d roll my eyes at every one of them. I felt like I hated you. But being without you felt so hard. Finally, I pushed you to the end. I drove you insane.

I proudly walked away from people even when it crushed me. But now that my soul is a bit worn out, it lives in regret of those whom I walked away from and wished I hadn’t. That pain was what was stopping me from letting go. I had lost the person who loved me. And I was never getting him back. Nor was I ever going to find someone who would treat me the way he did. Like a true princess. I blew it all up. It was all my fault. It took me four years to admit that I was the problem. It was his blessing that I walked away, and my loss.

I bet he’s happy. Waking up to his wife, a girl who probably didn’t say no to him a million times, who didn’t flinch when he touched her, who didn’t think his childishness was embarrassing, who didn’t cheat on her. I bet she’s nice and loves him more than I ever could. It’s been forever, and he’s still etched in my mind like I lost him yesterday. I guess somewhere I had hoped we would find our way back to each other. We didn’t. He also stopped answering my calls. Rightfully so, I didn’t deserve him. I thought he was horrible to me. Until I met people who actually treated me horribly. And then I realized this man was holy in comparison to other men. He loved and cared for me like no one ever will again. And he always told me that one day I would realize just how much he loved me because I used to constantly question and doubt it, for many reasons that are completely irrelevant today. And he’s right. Today I realize what he always knew I would. And it’s definitely too late.

The thought of you sent a shiver down my spine, while the thought of him felt like a warm hug.

The secrets we keep will eat us alive in the end, won’t they? But some things don’t belong to the rest of the world—our helplessness, our life, our choices aren’t always things the rest of the world will understand or agree with. So you take your secrets to your grave. Telling the world would be suicide. You know I’ve struggled to find my place and my purpose for the last few months. I questioned my work and my life and wondered why I feel so empty and so low. When maybe it’s not too far an outcry to feel this way. I changed my life; I moved, left my career, switched industries. The last few years were a complete 180. Perhaps the emptiness is from the loss of doing something I love every day. I used to love my work. I loved living away, away from the city, the traffic, the stress. I loved how it protected my sanity. Maybe that is what it is—me adjusting to my new life and still grieving the old one some days. There are days I feel like I am not good enough for my role today, when it’s something I undertook just a little over a year back. It’s such a challenge that I’m making it today, and I tend to forget that or give myself credit for the journey I made to come through.