Unprecedented

I was watching Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince the other day. And, well, something just hit. I felt it while watching Harry and Hermione's dance inside their tent.

It was one of those moments that I've learned to hate--mainly because they trigger memories. They make me remember things I've sworn to forget. They make me want to try and believe again that some stories, like the one we could've had, really can happen. That at some point, friends can turn their relationship into something deeper--better.

But then again, I know sometimes, they're also bound to fail. Like what happened to ours.

And I have accepted that, believe it or not. I have understood that we really couldn't have made it work. Maybe, if I've accepted that long ago, we needed not to go through all the pain. Maybe I needed not to hate you or her or the situation. Maybe it didn't hurt me to look ahead, knowing that I'm leaving behind everything that would've made me happier.

It's not fair, I tell myself over and over. It isn't fair that I seem stuck wherever I am right now while you have evidently moved forward. It isn't fair that many times, I still look behind me whenever I cross the street, out of habitually knowing that you're just there to look out for me. It isn't fair that in the many celebrations that I come to honor, I still expect to get even an SMS from you.

But thankfully, I was able to get over the most part. I got to realize I wasn't fair, too. I wasn't being fair to you, whose being loving enough should be known to me more than anyone else. And I wasn't being fair to myself, for adding more to the pain than what should be there.

I must admit it was difficult, though. Until now.

Until now, when I see a guy and a girl treat each other as bestfriends. Until now, when I watch movies who have the same plot as our story. Until now, when people ask me about love and life. Until now, when I come across a couple playing with their child.

I don't hate you, by the way. I guess I never could feel that toward you. I still owe you way too much to hate you. Maybe even if we get the chance to repeat things and you still do what you did--choose what you've chosen. I don't hate you, I just hate the fact that what happened has happened.

Hopefully though, time would come when I wouldn't even think of writing something like this. I wouldn't feel a pang, however smallishly sharp. And if we could help it, hopefully we bring back even a quarter of what we've had before. I'd like that, to be honest.

Really like that.

It takes time, definitely. A long, long time.

There goes the change

I've been thinking of weddings and law school these days. A wedding where people are wearing jeans and shirts and sneakers or slippers. A wedding where the bride isn't made up or dressed up, where the groom doesn't even wear a tux. A wedding where vows aren't said, promises aren't made--instead, the present is laid.

A law school where everyone knew the answer. A law school that teaches you how to make an objection that will never be overruled. A law school that doesn't live together with piles and piles of clauses and articles. A law school where innocence is objective.

These are weird thoughts. Both refers to a future that won't happen. Maybe there's the common ground for them.

A future that I once believed in . . . But one that I now know wouldn't happen.

I wish I can simply ask

I wonder how you're doing. Sometimes, I hate the thought of you. But more often, I hate the fact that you become the thought that comes to mind whenever I don't have anything else to think about. Like you're some resident of an unguarded part of my mind.

But yeah, just that.

I wonder if you're doing fine. I wonder if you're getting along well with her. I wonder if you're happy.

I wish I can simply ask you. But I know I can't. Because we both know we're better off this way.