When I was still in college, I met a boy twice. I know that sounds silly and impossible but I guess, the difference between meeting him the first time and the last time is honestly simple in the most complex and ridiculous ways. In my head, it's so easy to justify this statement. It just makes so much sense to me there. But even when I try to explain it in the most simple ways, no one seems to understand.
I met a boy twice. I met him first in the beginning of the rainy season and again in the middle of the summer. When we met on that cold rainy day, his lips were almost chapped and his hair was kind of long. His hands were gentle and his voice was so soft. He offered me his jacket and asked me to share his umbrella. He would laugh because he thought it was so cute that I was coy that I could barely speak. He spent his days and nights making sure I was happy and loved and when he looked at me, his soulful and expressive eyes would light up. My life was beautiful and he thought I was beautiful. But rightfully, he was the beautiful one for making me love myself again during those few months. His kisses stole all the air from my lungs and his lips were sweet enough to give me goose bumps every time. We stayed up all night learning each other’s secrets and memorizing each other’s bodies. He fell in love with my smile and I fell in love with his eyes. When he held me, I would reached for his hands so that I could hold him too. When I held him, I'd bury my face in his shirt and study his distinct smell (cigarette and -something-). I never truly identified the "something" part. It's still a mystery, I suppose. We went on dates and held hands and smiled a lot. We watched the sunrise and the sunset. We went to a coffee shop although he is not a fanatic of such. We spent sunny days wandering around malls in search of that perfect spot. Mostly, we spent a lot of time talking and a lot of time kissing. I do not regret any single day spent with him. He was my talk-all-night friend and I guess my best friend in general.
Then one day, he got busy and stopped texting and calling. And I started caring too much. I had become far too involved and invested and I think that scared him away.
I didn't see him for a long time and it made me very ill. I became bitter and sad as he became more and more distant. I tried to explain how I felt but all that came out were buckets of tears and accusations and repetition and hurts and hurt and hurt. We spent a night in an unknown place because he wouldn't let me leave until it stopped raining and I didn't leave even if it already stopped.
Later we spent a lot of time arguing on the phone. I spent a lot of time crying and he spent a lot of time feeling guilty.
I ran into him where we used to hang out with our group of peers during his break one day and his hair was short and well groomed. He didn't touch me. His voice is still soft but indifferent. His lips was no longer chapped and he didn't laugh nor think it was cute when I stuttered because I was nervous. His eyes were dark and he didn't smile when he saw me. He didn't seem happy to see me. He didn't stop me when I began to cry and walked away. He didn't tell me he missed me too. I just stood shaking. I never felt so vulnerable. He didn't seem like the same person from before and I felt like it was all my fault.
That's what keeps me up at night, figuring out where I went wrong.
I met a boy twice.
The first time, he smiled and he fell in love with me,
The second time, he fell out of love with me.
Laters Baby....
