Someone once told me that I am one of the most honest person that they know. And I guess I really did appreciate the compliment even if he’s had a couple shots of Bacardi black and was singing his heart out to the rhythm of the guitar.
I guess I can be honest to people but it’s so hard for me to be honest with myself.
And I want to be honest with myself. I’ve been lying for such a long time; I’ve gotten used to it. I always lie that I don’t love him anymore, that I’ve moved on, that I don’t need anyone else to come along but really, these are lies that I tell myself to make me feel better.
For quite a time, I thought I’ve moved on from him. I thought I could hang around him and not feel any longing but to my dismay, I did. I felt it as he told me he missed me after not seeing each other for months. When a bottle was wasted and he was tipsy and he had the guts to sit next to me; hugged me, reminisced about the past. I tried my best to not get stung when he held my hand for a split second before I let it go. I tried my best to stop but that special place in my heart with you in it was beating rapidly reminding me of how much I missed it when I had to pretend I didn’t feel much for you.
I should stop. I told myself I should stop but honestly I wanted to tell you that maybe I haven’t really fully moved on from you at that time. That maybe after a year, you’re still the one I call when I need to cry, when I need to pour my anger out, or even when I need to brag about the ups in life.
But I should stop and I guess I did stop. Maybe I didn’t have luck with other guys because I couldn’t connect with them because what we had was a standard that I’ve been putting up against the others.
Because you understood me even if I couldn’t understand myself.
And I should stop, because I like someone. I like him more than the superficial; more than those sideburns and that smile. He understands me like you did but I know, just like you, we probably can’t be.