abby

It’s been one year now, huh? I didn’t expect time to fly this fast and I’ve survived countless lonely nights without you but it’s not like you were even there at all. We were never an us, or a we or a you and me. The both of us were just strangers. I don’t know what your humor is like or the kind of love songs you listen to when you are sad and needing love. I don’t know your favorite color and for some time, I didn’t even know your name. All I knew at that moment I first saw your brown curls and golden skin was that I wanted to love you and call you mine. Oh, for me to hear you call my name would be a pure bliss. Those useless syllables they call me would be meaningful if only I would hear you say it. But for now I would have to just imagine what you sound like. Does your voice sound hoarse, soft or squeaky? I want to know! And very badly.

“I miss your hair. I like the way you stare into my eyes, most of the time.” I just love that part of this song I had been listening to on repeat. Makes me miss you ten times more than I already do, I don’t even have the right to be. I mean I am just a stranger! And it honestly hurts to call myself a stranger to you. You don’t even know there’s a random girl back in your parents’ hometown crying in her bed most the time because she misses you and couldn’t get over the fact that you’ve completely dominated her brain. You wouldn’t understand, you really wouldn’t.

I just wished I wasn’t much of a coward those days I still had you. I should’ve talked to you instead of giving you meaningless stares that you probably didn’t understand. But I did love our silent stares. To me it was our little love story, two complete strangers meet eyes. I don’t know if you felt a lovely spark in your heart when you saw me that day at the library but I did. It was like you were destined to be there as I was. It’s like our eyes were destined to find each other as I look up from my book and you look behind you. It was too coincidental not to be destiny. Even to this day, I still do not know the color of your eyes. Are they dark brown, hazel brown, light brown, umber brown? I wanna know and I’d pray and hope one day I’ll get the answer. I’d hope and pray that they’ll stare at me without discreteness and fear of me finding that they were locked on to me.

Which part of the world are you in now? Land of the Free? City of Love? Promise Land? I wanna know. And I’d hope you’d answer. You see, here’s my problem, I’d always hope but in the end I am always disappointed and I don’t know why I still let myself suffer through that everyday. Maybe the thought of pain in the end is validating when you’ve been patient throughout agonizing days. I just wish I’d see you again one day when we’ve both grown up. And I’d hope you still keep your curly hair when that time comes.

I saw the scar on your elbow that day you sat in front of us. I wonder how you got it. Did it hurt when you got wounded? I wanted to know the story of that scar and for that matter, I wanted to know the story of all the scars in your body. I think about new scars that might’ve been left on your skin since you left. How many are they? Five? Ten? I want to know. I’d want you to tell me.

Do you remember that day when fate lets us meet again? That day when you were supposed to hold my hand in prayer but your mom snatched them away too fast before I could even raise my cold and shivering one. I was too excited to finally hold a stranger’s hand that few fleeting seconds. Sadly I didn’t come home that day thinking that your hands were too soft or even too rough. As everyone closes their eyes, I look up to see you staring at me. Those slow seconds felt like hours and the world suddenly felt like it was only the two of us in it. You were wearing a black tee that day, oversized on your skinny body but it looked good on you nonetheless.

Before I go any further, let me recall the very first time I noticed you. The sun was scorching hot that day despite the fact that it was in the middle of December. The waves were crashing on the burning sand, cooling them down with every foam that touches it. There were a lot of people in there, most of them were too busy to even bat an eye at me, besides I was an unremarkable

looking child. No defining feature; I was not even pretty back then, my posture was bad and my hair looked horrible. Through the crowd of old people talking, I saw you. I looked at you with golden glitters like the final prize. I didn’t even get why the hot sand didn’t hurt your toes that kicked at the soccer ball so gently so as not to get it to the other side of the fence. I don’t remember much of that day but all I remember is that that’s when I started to notice you.

I’d forget most of you after that small gathering since I was more focused on finishing Game of Thrones. I was too young to watch it back then but I wanted to and no one had stopped me. The following months, we would always see each other at the mall after every Sunday service and you would always be with your parents which was good since I was with mine; another reason for me to steal a glance at their eldest son. After a couple of months more, you have blossomed and so have I. I have grown to be an attractive young girl and you, a handsome church boy. I would always be delighted when I see that your parents were the ones assigned to sing knowing you would be around. And you would always follow me with your eyes when I wasn’t looking at you. I just wished both of us would’ve been brave enough just to even say a simple “hey.” It wouldn’t kill us both right?

Easter Sunday 2019, April 1st. I woke up really early that morning, 3 am maybe? But I remember getting ready to look cute knowing that you’d be there. I was wearing my sheer white blouse and a tiny black tennis skirt. To my surprise, I didn’t see you or your hair that constantly stood out wherever in the earth you were put. I reckoned it’s because there’s a lot of people so I let it go but week after week after week you stopped showing up.