Confused-Shoes

      I wrote about you here in my blog.

I wrote about all the nice memories we’ve had. The fun times we enjoyed, the secrets we shared in endless whispers, the sensual caresses, the oblivious smiles we gave each other as the world went on its way. I wrote about our dreams, how we plan to make that one way voyage towards the open sea, and how i’d open a bottle of expensive wine and pour it down on the decks so baptize our lovely ship. I wrote about your dreams of flying towards where no one knows, where perhaps we could meet Peter Pan in mid-air and take us together in Never Never land. And, as you told me, should he refuse to take me along (assuming he falls in love with you, the son of a bitch), you’d let go of his hand and you’d just seek mine. Then we will fall back to earth together, kissing.

I wrote about my dreams of taking a gun in a crowded mall, and i will fire away indiscriminately as you would ransack the jewellery stores and get whatever you can. You did promise that you’d pick up a Breguet for me. Well, when the cops come gratecrashing at our shooting party you would embrace me and not let me die alone.

I wrote about the films we saw and how we squirmed at the cheesy lines, and how we would immediately exchange cheesy lines ourselves. The kisses at the dark spots were obviously included. I wrote about how you threw up the pizza in your stomach when I pinched your nose too hard, and how I peed in my pants because you wont let me leave my seat (and you wouldnt accompany me either).

I wrote about the loveletters I gave you and the post-its you posted in my jeans. How I was walking in school and everyone was staring, even picking up those I love yous that dropped in my wake. I wrote about the day it was raining so hard and you couldnt get wet because you were suffering from flu and how we got wet, anyway. Anyway.

I wrote about the way you drove my car when I was just a three-week old licensed non-professional driver. You had no license of your own, of course. I wrote about the way we ate ice cream. I wrote about the way you refused my kisses because you said your hair smelled like the polluted streets of Katipunan.

I wrote about the deadly falling out of love episode that has changed my life since. You were also aware of that. I wrote about the tedious talks we had over tetra packs of chocolait. i was overwhelmed with your infamous last words. I was obliterated by the suddeness of your reprisal.

But I too, knew how to counterattack, and I have written about it. How I introduced the new ‘love of my fucking life’ to you as you introduced your new ‘he never makes me fucking cry’ to me. That did it. Well, we broke apart.

I wrote about how I looked at the skies and dreamed that my visions of sunsets would forever disappear. I wrote about how the official manifesto of our break-up circulated among the inner circles of our friends. I wrote how you refused to talk about it and how I went into solitary confinement, which was voluntary, and lasted for exactly an hour and a half. You never even looked for me nor did I made any attempt to apologize. We were both wrong.

I wrote about how I miss you and how i was not spared from the agony of having a too imaginative mind. I had nightmares and not even John Coltrane nor Radiohead could fill the time. I dreaded calendars, I hated books. I went as far as punching myself so hard until my lips bled.

I wrote about things that I wouldnt have written about. I wrote about things that I would never have thought could have happened in real life. I wrote about a love affair that I never imagined to possibly have an end.

I wrote about you and me and the things we love to do.

I wrote about you and me and the things we did and the things we said that caused our paradigms to break and separate.

I then burned the papers where I had written all these.

This blog post is a far cry from what I have written in paper and ink.

But I forgot to write something, and I am writing it here. So this makes this blog post a little better than what is now of ash.

I shouldnt have left you. I should have done my best to stay.