One Year
Contributed by ako-si-eica (Edited by blue_kuko)
Tuesday, December 19, 2006 @ 02:27:00 PM
(from peyups.com)
Dearest,
Tomorrow, it will be a year. 365 days, 12 months, 52 weeks since the 18th of December 2004. It was a year ago on this day, that I was anticipating tomorrow. It was a year ago on this day that I was sure, very sure, that you loved me back. I kept thinking, tomorrow will be the day. It was a year ago, on this day, that I was sure I had made the right choice. I was in love, and for once, I wasn't going to regret it, because you loved me back, right?
It will be a year tomorrow when I was bursting with love, happiness, contentment -- every good thing imaginable. Everything was perfect that night, unless you count my mother getting mad at me (what's new?) because I arrived home late.
How you gave your Christmas gift to me was spectacular. Who would have guessed that a perfect day would end with a perfect night? Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a simple thing like that was to be given under the stars. The only thing that would have made it more perfect than it already was was if you told me that you loved me, and will for all eternity. Sadly, that didn't happen.
A few months later I decided it was time to let go. I've waited for too long and nothing ever happened, so why should it happen then?
A few months after that, I found out that you fell in love with my ex-best friend. Well, you can just imagine how I felt after I found out. Like murder a thousand times over. I couldn't help thinking that if I hadn't left, would I be the one you loved and not her?
I look back on this time last year and I suddenly sigh involuntarily. Life now is so different from life back then. I don't even feel like I know myself anymore. This year just pales in comparison with the last.
Last year I helped put up our Christmas tree. This year, it is a week before Christmas and I have yet to feel its spirit. Last year, I became a better person because I met you again after I once did. This year, my attitude deteriorated. Last year, the glass was half full. This year, the glass is half empty.
Last year, I had love. This year, I have only memories.
Mere words cannot express how I felt for you. Truly, you were the first after he who I swore was the last. But who knows, maybe you aren't the last one. Maybe the last is somewhere out there, someone I'll meet on a busy street corner, or someone I've met ten years ago in the sandbox. Or, he's just a figment of my imagination, and love doesn't really exist.
I have moved on. Moreover, I have let go. Of you, of me, of what once was, and of what never will be.
But I have yet to find closure -- and I will when you answer just one last question. Call me what you want, but I sincerely refuse to believe that 'no' is not the answer.
Did you, even just for a split second, love me back?
Or were all those times you called, those love quotes you sent me, those endless, somewhat annoying text messages, those letters, meaningless?
Just answer me with a yes, and I shall forever let us go.
With all the love I can muster,
your Lilo
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