dear last girl,

You seem to have forgotten that you can tell me anything. I ask you not to forget any other detail anymore. I ask you to never listen to me asking things of you.

dear last girl,

I think I can see what she saw in you.

dear last girl,

The wound is a scar now.

dear last girl,

Remember those days when all the passive-aggressive flirting was done on LJ?

Me too. :)

dear last girl,

That’s enough.

Dear last boy,

I bet it hurts you so much more that I don’t wish you harm. That I’m not angry you betrayed me. I just flew right out of your hands before you ever had a chance to fight for me.

I wake up from dreams of you each time with a renewed vow to never let the past repeat.

What you had was a gem—now, a stone. Not a lost struggle but a long living regret.
Despite it all, I genuinely wish you joy because I know you’re only human. You’re not a bad person. We all have flaws.

dear last girl,

The answer is still, “No.”

dear last girl,

it just hits like a punch, you know? this realization that dang, it still hurts.

it’s getting old, i tell myself. because it is getting old, this.

in the earlier days after it ended, i kept telling myself well look at that, isn’t this comfortable? this misery i’m settling myself in. now it’s just this: a familiar sadness that eats at me.

and i should look for a way to outgrow this. and i am, i am. things do get better, yes, a friend told me once ‘you’ll wake up one day and you’ll just know it, you’ll know the day has come’. and i feel like i’ve had that day already. but nobody told me that that would have the capacity to hurt me, too.

and i realize, well, because i let it.

“it takes some time, but you gotta help it along.” — i think, yeah. (-:

PS: OMG flail Passion Pit OMG flail.

PPS: thanks, you.

dear last girl,

and by this i mean you — i’m not her, i feel like i should emphasize, but i just want to say:

1) passion pit is awesome

2) things — i was about to write, ‘things get better’ — because that’s what they do, after they get bad, after they get worse, and after they hit rock bottom — but somehow i feel like this isn’t the thing you’re looking for to read.

3) oh that first time, my phone did my erasing for me. lost it right in the middle of a crowded street, like my pocket knew just when and where to rip itself open. and just like that, gone (though the first few nights when i close my eyes they’re right there, a curious string of digits. it takes some time, but you gotta help it along, know what i mean?)

4) people say, in their incredulous voices: you went there. i say: go wherever you must. just keep moving.

5) you’re going to be fine. not that it needs saying, and it’s probably not in the way you think or expect, either. but just the same, it feels good to hear it, doesn’t it. you’re going to be fine.

Updates on my second year without you: I like Copeland a lot these days and of course you’re the first person I think of telling this. I deleted your number from my phone, and the satisfaction it gives me, of seeing just your number on my inbox every time you text, does not equal the sadness of the realization that: I went there. I eat on my countertop instead of on my kitchen table. How more single and alone could I get? I watch movies by myself. I crave for something and go to the mall and eat, by myself. I enjoy the company of friends but it’s really different, you know? To be with someone. I want to fall in love again. And every time, I look into my heart, and there’s this you-shaped thing. It’s not a bad thing, or at least I don’t look at it as such. Just last week I learned via Facebook that you were in Manila, and you didn’t even text. We’re there now, yes? That place of not acknowledging the presence (or absence) of each other when in the past it was all we could think to do. But yes I admit you’re in a much better place now than I am, acceptance-wise. I’m planting this time capsule, I’m going to look at this after some time, by then maybe I have really moved on, and then I can say: I was there. I’m here now. PS: Have you heard Passion Pit’s cover of Dreams? More importantly, are you even aware of Passion Pit? We weren’t when we were still together, and I’ve been meaning to ask you all this time if you know them now, because, well… habit.