An Open Letter to a Person Who is Now a Stranger

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I recently saw a picture of us, of you and me staring at the camera with boredom. You were standing beside me. You were wearing a blue shirt with your dark glasses on top of your head. You had that look of indifference like you didn’t give a shit about what was going on. You were small and almost fading.

Looking at this picture, you were quite thin, an ordinary being who didn’t have anything special to draw my attention to begin with. The type of person who didn’t have that overwhelming presence like you see in the movies. The type of person who neither has the effect of making you feel butterflies in your stomach nor give you sleepless nights for weeks like caffeine pills. This is probably the reason it took me three years to realize that we had seen each other before, albeit we weren’t properly introduced to one another. I should have remembered you, but I didn’t for some unknown reason.

On the first day of spring some years ago, it happened. I was busy chatting with my friend when you walked in like it was nobody’s business. The shirt you were wearing looked good on you. I was quick to assume that you knew what style was. You were also wearing an earring in your right ear. It was a black, shiny stud. It was amazing how this little piece of jewelry could impact my impression of you. It made you beautiful. It made you stand out.

You were nursing your bottle of Budweiser while texting on your phone. Your forehead wrinkled. Your brows drawn together. You were too focused on whatever you were reading. It was probably a message from someone you were closed with, as you nonchalantly looked at me when I asked for your help opening my drink. You said the words “just twist the cap and it will open” with annoyance. My intention of asking for help ended up with disappointment. You weren’t as cool as your stud earring. In fact, you were indifferent, cold as ice.

Then summer came like a breeze, and texting each other became a routine for some reason. Then fall and winter came. You were still there, but I started drifting away. I was lost despite trying so hard to find my way back. You were watching me ran away. I couldn’t tell why kissing you or having you hold my hands felt so taboo.  It took you months to notice that I was irredeemable. It took you months to realize that giving up on someone like me should have been done from the beginning.

So now, I will tell you something. I’m sorry for my imperfections. I’m sorry for hurting and confusing you. I’m sorry for saying I like you when I did not mean to. I’m sorry for wanting to change you. I’m sorry for the times I asked you to leave because I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry coz I couldn’t kiss or give you a hug. I’m sorry for twisting your fingers, for embarrassing you and for yelling at you in front of strangers. I’m sorry for forgetting you were there and for not asking if you were ok. I’m sorry for whining like a spoiled kid when things didn’t go my way. I’m sorry for making you pay for the cab fares, the food and the drinks. I’m sorry for the times I was mad at you for no reason. I’m sorry because you have finally decided to walk away from a twisted person like me.

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