“things (not) to be forgotten”
Dear R,
I purposely withdrew myself from you after I realized that I have lost, and to you most of all. Nowadays, I still cannot look you in the eye for fear that you might rub this matter to my face and I would only feel so much smaller.
At the onset I thought I was playing my cards right. You chided me for what you have called as my martyrdom and that I should be canonized for fervently believing that he would come home to me at the right time. As we both know, he never did. I was grateful you didn’t mention anything about the incident since it happened, and I remember now that we even quarreled the very night before. But with your silence comes this recurring thought: sometimes I imagine you saying, “I told you so” over and over.
And then you were right, again, when you told me that I shouldn’t be hopeful or relying on anything or anyone. I chucked your words out of my head and into my repository of “things to be forgotten” because even though I was heartbroken, I felt that I was still in the good side of the Universe and that it would grant me passes to study in Europe. Again, I was wrong in believing I would win this time around, that I could prove you mistaken, that there is nothing wrong in being hopeful over reaching out for things that would make you happy even if they were as far-fetched as Europe.
When the second bad news reached me, I felt I had to completely ignore you already because you were so good at predicting my downfalls. Yes, you might have opted not to directly point them out to me but it is just as well that I veered away from you because like I said, I do not like losing, especially losing to you.
Twice you have won, R, and I do not know when I shall be able to look you in the eye again and dare you to another match. My ego has been bruised and at the moment, I am still licking my share of wounds.
But when the time comes that I open my mouth to talk to you again, you can be assured I am ready to get into another match. If all else fails, I would gladly get into a fistfight or a drinking match to settle the stupid score.
I just absolutely hate it when you win.
Until then (and just you wait),
C
I purposely withdrew myself from you after I realized that I have lost, and to you most of all. Nowadays, I still cannot look you in the eye for fear that you might rub this matter to my face and I would only feel so much smaller.
At the onset I thought I was playing my cards right. You chided me for what you have called as my martyrdom and that I should be canonized for fervently believing that he would come home to me at the right time. As we both know, he never did. I was grateful you didn’t mention anything about the incident since it happened, and I remember now that we even quarreled the very night before. But with your silence comes this recurring thought: sometimes I imagine you saying, “I told you so” over and over.
And then you were right, again, when you told me that I shouldn’t be hopeful or relying on anything or anyone. I chucked your words out of my head and into my repository of “things to be forgotten” because even though I was heartbroken, I felt that I was still in the good side of the Universe and that it would grant me passes to study in Europe. Again, I was wrong in believing I would win this time around, that I could prove you mistaken, that there is nothing wrong in being hopeful over reaching out for things that would make you happy even if they were as far-fetched as Europe.
When the second bad news reached me, I felt I had to completely ignore you already because you were so good at predicting my downfalls. Yes, you might have opted not to directly point them out to me but it is just as well that I veered away from you because like I said, I do not like losing, especially losing to you.
Twice you have won, R, and I do not know when I shall be able to look you in the eye again and dare you to another match. My ego has been bruised and at the moment, I am still licking my share of wounds.
But when the time comes that I open my mouth to talk to you again, you can be assured I am ready to get into another match. If all else fails, I would gladly get into a fistfight or a drinking match to settle the stupid score.
I just absolutely hate it when you win.
Until then (and just you wait),
C