Letters to No One: Wait There
I've never been the type to like the same person twice. For you, however, I'd consider it. . . and again, another name, I would. I didn't know how it happened. It was quick, as if a runner snapping off the ribbons when the buzzer had just rang. It started off with a banter — not even a name. My shoes untied? Haha, classic. Calling out my name when a funny-looking person walks by? Okay, rude.
I have to admit, a part of me liked it — loved it. It was as if deliberately you were giving a space just for us two.
However, it was like a bus coming onto oncoming traffic. I had to wait. Slow. . . at a stop. . . then a sudden go — a few days, you were gone and then suddenly you showed up again. This time, though, you came with a name. It was a sudden mark that had just showed up the moment I saw your irritating face.
"There" — that's what I called you.
Because sure as hell. . . you were. . . there.
A part of me hated I liked it. Hell, even loved it. Were you deliberately passing me by? Were you really so hell bent on playing shadow that you wouldn't even leave my side? Was it really necessary you'd repeat the same joke twice? THRICE, even?
I know for a fact it doesn't mean shit. . . at least to you, it didn't. To me, however, it was the thing that would stuck out with the two 4-hours that had passed by; and when that had been my sense of normalcy for the past goddamn two weeks of second-guessing the wholeness of myself. . . hell, no wonder it meant something to me when no one could change my mind. I didn't even know your last name, nor your past. But it only reminded me of things that didn't matter and what was at hand.
I'd felt alone, if I were to be honest — and that sure as hell wasn't changing. I was left with loud thoughts for silent hours, screaming for a sense of peace. But your laugh? Your goddamn laugh! You snapped me right back to the present and gave me just an inch of normalcy I had not felt in the past goddamn two weeks thinking I was no person that deserved to be known.
But you asked me for my name, and how I was, and what my plans for the future were . . . all to hell, they were shallow conversations as fuck; but for me, it was a first in a while that someone wanted to know me more than a name.
"Wait" — I decided to call you.
Because sure as hell, I wasn't ready for what was to come.
It started off with a banter. . . now, why the hell is your hand on mine? "What is it?" you asked. I replied that it was warm. Again you asked, a hand pressed firmly on mine as I replied with a heat more intense than the other. "Lead me" you said, with a trust reciprocal we didn't even need to know what the others' name was.
"Wait there" — I'd call, over and over again.
I wasn't ready. Dear God, I was not ready. In the near two 4-hours that'll pass by, I was already anticipating you and what was about to. I could only laugh.
For the goddamn past two weeks I've been so stuck in the past, that how the hell did a nameless face just reminded me there was more beyond that?
But I'm not ready. I'm sorry. I know a cliche. . . classic, haha. Rude, even. You should know, I've never been the type to like the same person twice. But. . .
Wait there, I might still change my mind.