Love
Letter
To
My
First
Love

You were the only one I saw. 

Your awkward gestures but your straight-back posture. Your hesitant smile and your stoic face. Your large and bony hands and your funny drawings. Your name that sounds like your father's and your two older brothers'. Your concern for your friends. Your bedhead and your bright eyes. I kept on noticing it. Each day. Each time. Each hour. Each minute. Each second. Until you're the only one I saw in the room. No one knew. No one noticed. For I am a girl who never fell for anyone. But deep inside me, I was hoping. With everything that I have, I was hoping. That at the very least...you would notice. You would feel. You would see. How I have always been looking at you. With my heart fluttering every moment. I hope you knew. That even if I hated my imperfect teeth, and never smiled a full smile in pictures because of it—you were the only one who saw my brightest smile.

I smiled at you as if I had nothing to lose. 

I clearly remember that certain day, when all the forces in the universe conspired for us to be alone. Maybe for you that was just an ordinary game. Maybe you don't remember it anymore. Maybe it was just nothing to you. But for me, even your mischief is endearing. And worth all my time and effort to retort back to. It was 6th grade. I was eleven. Young and wide- eyed. Carefree and reckless. We had nothing to lose and no desire to gain. You just happened to see me in the corner. Bawling my eyes out. You did nothing. You didn't even come close. But you were there. You called my best friend to comfort me. And as my best friend patted my back, it was your hands that I felt. As she soothed me with comfort, it was your face that I remembered.

I like you. 

Even after seeing me cry, you never stopped your pranks and jokes. Your mischief turned my immature misery into annoyance. I ran after you and you ran around the whole school... with me chasing you all the way. You never stopped running from me. And I never stopped chasing you. We were exhausted. And sweaty. You stopped right when you thought I wasn't there anymore. And I can never forget that surprised look on your face when I caught you from the back. We walked together tired from the play. With me not remembering why I cried before. My head was filled with you. And as we parted, I gave you my brightest smile. I thought things were going well.

But you were the best friend of the guy who likes me. 

Time passed. High school came. Freshman year. You were not in the same room as me anymore. But your best friend was. I noticed you didn't come close anymore. You felt distant. But nostalgic. I told you your uniform suits you. You just smiled and left. I always looked at you from afar. I spent a whole year wishing you'd look my way. Like the old times. But you never did.

I missed you. 

It wasn’t the same as before. You were different. You were distant. I thought we were on to something beautiful. I kept trying to talk to you. You gave in once in my million tries. That one moment when you seemed like you wanted to say something. Your eyes were confused. I was waiting for those words. But you smiled. That goofy smile of yours that swept me off my feet. You played your usual prank. I was not annoyed, or surprised. But I chased you, still. As you ran, you slowly stopped. I caught you from the back like the old times. We shared a moment... a certain, special moment. I don't know how long it lasted, who saw us, where we were, what we looked like. We just stood there together, with my hands grabbing your back. My grip tight. Showing no intention of letting go. All I could hear was your breathing. And my heart was about to stop. You didn't move. And nor did I. We stood there. And I understood. In that moment, you were trying to say something. You were making me choose. But I understood you. Because I have been looking at you more than anyone else did. I knew what this all meant. Your confused eyes. Your half-hearted prank. Your sudden pause. And your rapid breathing, as I held on to you tightly. I didn't want to let go, you know that? I would have given my everything, just to stay. But that's not what you wanted. So I let my hands go. You stood with your back facing my broken heart. I waited. Maybe you would turn. Maybe if I stayed just a minute longer. But you did not budge. I joked. You were silent. I was trying to make you talk. Trying to tell you to stop me from leaving. So I ran away. And you didn’t run after me.

You gave up. 

I know you did. We started this small, charming affair without proper words and gestures. We played it silly and light. We laughed and played. I could feel it. I would secretly call you from my mother's office to greet you a happy birthday, using my friend's coinciding birthday with yours as an excuse—It's Trisha's birthday as well, today. Might as well greet you, too. I would say that every time. An obviously lame excuse. I just wanted to hear your voice. And I just wanted you to know that I never forgot a single thing about you. I could feel that you also felt it. That this special bond, this connection, was not just my own fantasy. That we met somewhere on this complicated wavelength of emotions. I know you felt it too. But you still gave up.

You were cruel. 

You made me let you go. You made me choose. But I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to hurt your best friend. Because you were important to me. Even if I was not so much to you. I chose you, you know that? I chose your happiness. It was a young love. And maybe someday this would just be a distant memory. But the time that we could have had...that little time of happiness before reality creeps in… I had hoped we could've enjoyed it more...together. 

There was hope. 

Sophomore year. I saw you in the room. Talking to your best friend. The old flame inside me didn't die. It glowed brighter with your every smile. I was thrilled to share the same space with you again. I never gave up. I was hoping we could meet halfway.

We had our last real talk. 

It was a small reunion. It was late. The night was deep. While everyone's gathered on one side, talking about grade school years, you were at the basketball court playing alone. I went to you. I was afraid you'd push me away or leave. But you passed me the ball. You said—Let's play a game. We say a wish before we shoot. If the ball goes through the hoop, your wish will come true. We made lots of wishes and lots of missed shots. I don't exactly remember everything. But there was one thing you said that ended the tiny flame of hope I had carried in my heart all this while. Before you shot the ball you said—I'll never marry. I’ll never love again. The ball went through the hoop. Three points—I said.

Your best friend confessed. 

And you never spoke to me again. I rejected him. I made sure that every one knew I don't like anyone else right now. I was giving you a chance to come to me. I was giving you a signal to come get me. I was waiting.

I waited for two more years. 

I was busy. But you never left my heart. You were busy, too. I was thinking that we didn't share that distinct connection anymore. But I was still hoping. Wishing for a certain moment to connect us again. It was a stubborn, hopeless faith. A wishful wish—for you to look at me again.

Then you gave her a rose. 

Senior year. I buried myself in studies. To be better. To prepare to confess before graduation. I won't wait anymore—I told myself. I decided to go to you first. To grab you from behind again. And not let you go anymore. But maybe I saw too many text books and solved too many problems—that I never noticed the change in the look of your eyes. I was so fixated to an uncertain but hopeful future in my mind—that I forgot to look at you the same as I did before. I was too busy prepping myself for a war that will not happen—that I never noticed how you talked more now, how you became more carefree, how your stoic face twisted with laughter, and how the tip of your ears down to your neck would turn red every time your friends would tease you about a girl whose name sounds like mine. On that day, when flowers and chocolates and red and pink filled the atmosphere, you gave her a rose. When I was handing out my application paper for an exam that if I passed would make me confess to you, you gave her that damned rose. 

It was a total mess. 

Everyone in class made a fuss about it. Every mouth would talk about how you – the guy who swore not to fall in love – gave a rose to a girl I never noticed before. A tall, lanky, quiet, artistic bright-eyed girl. The total opposite of the petite, bubbly, untalented me. My heart was shattered. With each broken piece looking like a grotesque, ugly flesh torn from deep inside me. That's how much it hurt. That's how hard it hit me that for you... it was all just a fling. A sway of emotions. A toy you gave to your friend because it didn't hurt much to let it go. You should've been more childish and possessive. You should've shouted and bawled and cried your lungs out. You should not have let me go. But maybe I was being too conceited. Maybe it was all just my own assumption and arrangement. Maybe it was just my own fantasy all along. Maybe... if I drown myself with all these maybes, I'd eventually forget about you and this broken heart. Maybe.

Your friend pursued me while you pursued her. 

It was just a simple logical matter. I liked you. Your best friend liked me. You liked someone. And that someone didn’t like you. You and your best friend had your hearts broken by girls who never returned your feelings. And there I was, with no one knowing how much I waited for you and longed to be with you. With you not knowing it all this time. I had my heart broken by a boy who almost returned my feelings but didn't... then went to love someone else.

I still love you. 

Three years passed. You're in another town. Two seas away from where I am now. I have no idea what you do, who you're with. I'm pretty sure you've forgotten about me already. And maybe you actually like someone else again. Your best friend told me you had your heart broken again by a girl you tried to flirt with when you discovered she was taken already. What an idiot. And you're actually flirting now. I couldn't even imagine why I still have these lingering feelings about the three-years-younger you. And maybe I was just overly romanticizing about the past we shared. But I don't want to lie and pretend this is nothing. Because that was exactly how I lost you. Without proper words and with silly conversations, we shared a bond that stayed in my heart until now. That brief moment I had with you was not just my fantasy. It was real. It was something fragile and special. It was nostalgic, melancholic, but strangely calm and light. That bond is something that I will always hold on to... to remind myself that I am a person who can love. Because after you, no one came into my heart again.

After you. 

There's nothing. Only you and the scars you made are left. And every night I wonder about how you’re doing. And maybe I'll keep doing this. Until one day when I don't think of you, even in my dreams. Until my second love shows up, and replaces you.