The End

It was the end. I could feel it.
Not just the end of the day, or the end of another of our casual catch-up sessions. No, not just that; it was the end of something more.
I didn't suspect anything as we laughed over dinner, or as we took the train home together, as you insisted (as you always do, the only one to always do so) on walking me home.
I didn't suspect anything as we laughed and strolled through the familiar streets (familiar to both of us), as we lingered at the void deck to say our goodbyes.
It was the hug.
Somehow it felt appropriate, and as the thought trundled through my mind, you moved and I moved and we awkwardly closed the distance between us. And I made sure to pet your back, because that's a sure sign of it being a just-friends hug. And we separated with me thinking that's the closest I've been to a guy in awhile.
Then I looked up into your eyes, and through it I simply felt- knew- it was the end.
But unlike the many other endings I've been through, this was a bittersweet one. Not one of relief. Not one of disappointment. Not one of apathy.
Nope.
It was one of thankfulness, of calmness, of fondness, of wishfulness, of lingering thoughts about what was and what could have been.
Thank you for letting me experience such an end.
And thank you for everything you have done (for it was certainly not me) to create this ending for us.

I think I might like you

I think I might like you.
That's what I told you. Not because I was afraid of rejection,
But because it was the truth.
And when it comes to love
I always try to be truthful. (I learnt the hard way)

I think I might like you.
But it might not matter either way
If you do not like me.
Maybe I would save myself the big headache of trying unravel the secrets of my heart
By forcing you to make the decision first.
Because I was sure
(Not completely, but largely)
That you were at least as uncertain as I.

I think I might like you.
But the timing between us is never right.
Because when I am inclined towards the answer being yes,
You are inclined towards the answer being no.
And if you have ever thought the answer to be yes,
I must have been looking elsewhere.

I think I might like you.
It almost sounds like a game.
But I don't like games.
So I think I'll force you to win, and kill me off.
The game must end for me to play another.

I think I might have liked you.
I honestly still don't know.
But it's fine
Because while I am uncertain of my feelings,
I am now certain
Just as you probably were
That we would have been absolutely,
Completely,
In every way,
Terrible
For each other.
Still
I think I might like you.
You, who knew me,
And yet still smiled at me,
I'll keep you as
A precious part of the past.

My First Friend

I never got the chance to properly say this.
Thank you for being my first friend.

The me, who at the age of 13, still knew nothing about friendship...
Saw you, who told me to smile
And knew, that you were someone I could trust with all my heart.
And so I threw aside all my awkward attempts, insecure smiles and uneasy pursuits...
To simply follow you.

You taught me what to give in a friendship
When I only knew how to receive.
You taught me not to judge,
Because the you that I looked down on as being innocent and naive, was so much better than me in so many ways.
You led the way and I followed
And wherever we ended up, I was assured knowing I wouldn't be alone.
For the first time in my life.

Thank you for being my first friend.

Loved

It was a test, really. A test that came from my own selfishness, my hunger for love. My need for someone to depend on, someone to solve my frustrations for me.
It was a test, but I didn't really believe that the two of you would pass it. I did it on a whim; a fit of childish passion. I was a child, after all.
So I convinced myself to fall asleep on that cold plastic table. I awoke to the unlocking of the front door. Two silhouettes in the darkness. By that time I needn't pretend; I was well into a sleepy haze. I did still remember to pout my lips though. And somehow, you understood my little human's talk well enough to understand what I wanted.
The rest of it played out like a dream. Now that I think back, the two of you were probably tired from working all day, and hungry for dinner. Yet you patiently listened to this confusing description of some meaningless little paper craft from a little girl who had a million other fancy toys to play with.
And somehow, I found myself holding a perfect little weather wheel; the same as the one I had seen on the television a few hours before.
That night, I truly felt loved.
I never knew that love was such a wonderful, warm thing.

Her

I smile now, and it is the same smile that I've smiled a million times before. Yet the me in the picture is yet another new me. Different from the me with the blemished skin, the unruly hair and the wire-framed spectacles. The me with the insecure smile, who didn't want to leave the house or meet other people's eyes. The girl then is still alive, but at the same time she is dead. I can no longer say I completely understand her; she who stumbled gracelessly along the path of growing up. She was always looking for acceptance, and although the me now no longer needs acceptance of the same kind, I am still looking for acceptance for her, as though it is something I must accomplish before moving on.
But what does acceptance truly mean? What does it entail?
Perhaps the acceptance she needs is acceptance from me.

The Pain of Living

You told me you were leaving. That you were going home. I replied numbly that I understood. Or something along those lines. I can't remember. Nothing I said then would have changed anything anyway. And you didn't seem like you wanted -needed- anything from me.
And then you turned and walked away.

And then

my heart broke

into a million tiny little pieces.

For the first time, I felt completely and utterly alone.
The tears fell uncontrollably, as though I hoped they could wash away all my memories. Of you. And her. The two people that I had not managed to keep by my side. Two people who at that moment felt as though they were lost to me forever, lost to a dark abyss, lost to a place that I had no way of following. Two people that I had not managed to save.

It hurt. It was painful and I hated it. I hated it along with you and everybody else.



The me now accepts this as being part of living. That I can experience such pain is proof that I am alive.
It feels good to be alive.

Different

You were different. That was my first impression of you.
I still remember that day. Of course I do. It was the day we were introduced to the classmates we would be sharing our four years of school life with. I was nervous, determined to make a good impression.
We played the name game. Thankfully I was nearer to the front. You know me~ I'm terrible at names.
You were the last, I think. Or near the end. I was just thankful not to be in your place. But when it got to your turn to recite our names, you simply laughed unrestrainedly, stood up, and went to each person asking them in your strange accent to repeat their names for you.
I was shocked. It was something that I could never do. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or appalled. You were different. To me who had been striving all my life to fit in, you were very different indeed.
The you now is still pretty much the same. If we were to be in the same situation again, the me now would take comfort in that familiar unrestrained laughter. I'd still be a little embarrassed, but at the same time I'd be smiling fondly at the you who is different. At the you who is able to accept me completely as I am. Thank you for being different.