The Lost Mailbox

17 Feb

February 17, 2012

Dear “a-guy-in-a-black-shirt”,       

It’s funny how things have changed so drastically for the past three years. I can still vividly remember what happened on the first day of school, the day when I saw you sitting on the corner wearing that black shirt. It’s a cliché for me to name you after “a-guy-in-a-black-shirt”, obviously I was naïve at that time. Looking back, there were days when you constantly filled my mind or days when all I do was to stare at you. I have imagined every possible ways on how should I approach you, or just have a small talk with you, but that never happens. However, you were the one who approached me first in a virtual way. It happened a day after a party we both attended. I do not know what made you interested with me, but I took that chance as a way to start talking with you. There were endless nights when we would send text messages with each other, and nights wherein I would sleep with a smile on my face.

Recalling everything was like looking at the old photographs; some are a bit old and smudged, some are full of faces with wide smiles, and others held deep scars in the heart. But all were bits and pieces of a memory. Yes, you are a memory. A memory I had long forgotten, and lost. I do not know how it all ended, nor if it even started at all. But right now, it’s like your memory has been slowly fading. What made me remember you was when I read the letter I wrote about you two years ago, or when I saw all the ‘lost letters’ or stories I dedicated for you. These pieces of stories I wrote for you reflected the ‘old’ me when I was still so entranced in you. And reading them right now brought me wonders tonight, whether if it’s really me who wrote all of it. You see, you did nothing wrong. Maybe that was the problem in the first place. You did “nothing” to make it work.

Yes, we talked. Yes, we do share some secrets. And yes, we do talk about her, the one whom you were so infatuated at that time. But I guess you got tired of waiting for her, and then there was me, so you somehow managed to open your eyes and saw me. But that happens for a little while. We stopped talking. You got a new girl. And I didn’t mind because I know deep down that your relationship with her won’t last long. And I was right. Still, we never talk. I never had the chance to tell you how I feel because I was scared, or maybe that wasn’t the right time. Or you weren’t the right person to tell. I do not know. All I know was that, I tried to ignore you even after last summer when we had our ‘first date’ as what you put it to. When I remember that, I couldn’t help but grimace. Even before that, when you surprisingly invited me on your birthday and sang a song for me. I feel shocked to the point that I try to ignore you afterwards when we saw each other at school. I wasn’t prepared for you acting like that to me. And our common friend likes me too, so that made things a lot complicated.

So I resorted to the easiest way: Ignore you. Yes, I admit that I do ignore you. I ignore you to the extent that I was acting so rude, and that wasn’t right. But I feel it’s the best thing to do, and it was effective. Again, we drifted apart. You see, we weren’t fit to be together because later on I realized I really don’t like you that much. The sparks I felt when I first saw you wasn’t there anymore. And I’ve changed. I have learned a few things from my friends, and I have learned to realize that at some point in our lives, we meet people who would make us feel better or worse. Somehow, you managed to mix up both.

I am not writing this to you because I want you to know that you lost your chance when I was so openly waiting for you. I am not writing this to you because I suddenly miss you, or suddenly want you back. I was merely writing this because at last, I have realized that there were times wherein we would meet certain people who would ignite the fire inside us. Just when I thought you would be the first person I would want to be my boyfriend, I realized it was a false idea. Truthfully, I would want to apologize to you for being rude and for ignoring you. But apologizing right now would create questions and would raise another false idea. And I do not want to explain everything that happened since the beginning. I would probably put this letter on one of my ‘lost letters’ for you. I promise that this would be the last letter, and that I was only inspired to write one because I want to make sure if I am still able to write such thing. But some of the words I put in here sound a little fake to my ears.

Right now, I feel so empty in a good way. Like I was inside a white room with no walls, no ends, and no corners; just plain white room, or if it’s even a room, that extends up to perpetuity. This emptiness is not combined with bitterness or regret. It is something that correlates with freedom. Somehow, I felt free from the grasp of someone who barely noticed me. I am free of being under the spell of love, or infatuation. I believe that right now, I am still finding myself because that is what I needed most. When we first met, I thought I had found the right ‘me’. But then, I always felt so insecure and so uncomfortable having you around me instead of having an uplifted spirit; though I do not take that against you because it wasn’t really your fault.

I want to end this letter because my writing is kind of getting messy and I have school tomorrow. I would probably saw you in the hallways, or not, since I barely saw you anymore. Anyway, since you won’t be able to read this directly, I thought of an idea. Perhaps I would send this letter to a postbox with an anonymous recipient, just like what Charlie did on his letters. Or perhaps, this would go into waste bin and someone will be able to notice a crumpled paper and spare some of his or her time to read this. Who knows? All I know is that, this letter would remain a secret. Unless you know who you are that I was talking about; or a person who was called “a-guy-in-a-black-shirt”.

Somehow, I doubt that.

Without wax,

Literati Papier


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Posted by on February 17, 2012 in Confessions


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