All Shook Up

14Apr08

Dear *,

I want it to be tomorrow. I want it to be the day you realize how selfish you are. You know, when that day comes, I will be sure I will have more “times” with you. Hehe, I wonder why we call them “times” …do you know?

I can remember every moment I spent with you. I can imagine every moment I will spend with you. I cannot entertain the thought that I will be without you one day. Never. I used to be able to, but now, I just cannot. Don’t disappoint me.

What I really want is an explanation of why you are being so selfish. I mean, seriously? Do we have to go through the arguments and hurt every time we talk? Do I have to deny that I am crying even with the tears making their way down to my lips? Do I have to blink back how much I love you just so I hurt you enough into doing what you should do?

You keep telling me that I am not as selfish as I think I am, but you know what? You are more selfish than you think you are. How can you not see that this is affecting us all? We go through this together. Fingers crossed, the day will come when you realize that you are not the only person affected by this.

I always think old people are frustratingly nonsensical, but you always make sense to me. That is, you have always made sense to me until now. I do not understand one bit of it.

Please, I want more of the “times” we spend together. I want to carelessly shrug off the cold floor of your library against the flesh of my legs. I want to smell the coffee that I cannot drink and not curse you for drinking it. I want to smile at you knowingly across the table, sharing a moment where we simultaneously found the answer to a mystery that we have questioned millions of times. I want to have silent conversations with you about the cruel ways of the world and how we cannot change them. I want to make sure you understand every moment of silence we have ever had has a screaming significance behind it. I want to be able to tease you when you mix up theories and books and watch you laugh it off like it would stain my image of you. I want to listen to your singing of samris and recital of poetry from the jaheleya just to cheer me up. Please.

Why can’t you see that I am not myself with anyone as much as I am myself with you? You are one of the people who make me who I am. Your image in my perspective of life cannot be scarred by anything. You have hurt me before, but this is different. I will not let go of you easily. I can not talk to you for a while, but you know that will not last.

I just want you to know that you are part of my “everything” as you like to call it. Part of me worries, hurts, laughs, pretends, and dies with you. Do this for us if you are not willing to do it for yourself. Do not make me go through this again.

I love you no matter what. I love you beyond words. I love you beyond feelings. I love you more than to just sit and watch.

Your Polyhymnia

(I know you think I forgot, but I did not.)

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