4:35am here, 4:35pm there.

Posted in Letters (Old) by Sandra on September 27, 2007

It’s raining rather heavily outside. An orange hue cast over the neighbouring blocks lends a haggard look to these gaunt structures. I’m not cold, rather warm, and sleepy. I let myself wonder how you are at the moment. I may have blocked you on MSN, may have deleted your number and your home address from my phone, may have tried to not think about your absence, but I can’t deny that I miss you sorely. Lacking the other half, as people always say. I’ve lost the other half, though, through my own folly.Perhaps I never really expected you to say “Yes, I want a break up” when I asked, that’s why it hurts so bad. In fact, I think that is true – I didn’t expect you to say yes. Perhaps even I took you for granted.

I learnt the other day in my Communications class, that in relationships, people expect a balance between the effort they put in, and the rewards they get. When I reflect upon what has become of us, I think that it is plausible. I feel like I’ve put in a lot: calling you, staying up for you, sending you music, trying to organixe my December holiday in the US such that we might finally meet up, and trying to express my love for you in many ways. You hardly responded, and your calls stopped.

But I always forgot, however, that it was not something you asked for. My effort was not something you wanted. The Effort you wanted was love, and I didn’t know how to show it the way you knew it. I irritated you with my want (need, you said) of attention. I pissed you off when I did certain things. To me, it sounded like I was being a horrid girlfriend, which I probably was… I’m sorry.

And yet again the tiny voice inside speaks up: but he didn’t try very hard either, did he? He was the one who was home nearly 85% of the time. He was the one who didn’t have to go to school physically. He was the one who wanted some time away from you, a break from you, because he couldn’t stand you. He was insensitive, and over the days has grown immune to your tears. He didn’t behave like he cared anymore. In fact, if you didn’t call him or initiate anything with him on your own, he would have happily left you alone!

He said he hurt too, but how can I really believe him if it doesn’t show anywhere? Your actions speak louder than your words; words can be faked. There wasn’t a slightest effort on your end to call me or tell me about your life, your situation, the things that were happening to you. Not even a missed call…

Yet even though I’m upset/unhappy/insert word, I sometimes still smile when I remember things and incidents between us. Those phone calls, those desperate nights I spent in an unknown place with only your voice in my ears to comfort me. That voicemail you sent me to put on my mp3 player because I couldn’t sleep, those days, without your voice soothing me. Those nights and days we spent trying to tweak the Might and Mana website. That one time I got lost in Ronfaure, because I saw something shiney in the distance. Remember? I told you to stop moving because I had opened up my map, and saw an marker which I thought was you, only to finally reach it (it kept moving!) and find no one. I never told you till a few months back, because I was so embarrassed. The times when we would buy Snapple and compare the facts on our caps. You taught me to make that popping sound, by pushing the cap in different ways. You taught me how to cook macaroni and pour the grated cheese over it. You taught me bits of Spanish, which I remember hazily. You taught me what it feels like to be loved by someone so far, yet feel safe and happy just to be that.

In those early months every morning was a joy. To hear your voice and see your face or read your words, those were a simple happiness to me, because I couldn’t touch you. The way you call me a lady, because I know I’m not as gentle or refined as one, brings a smile to my face, even now. I love how you called me tiny, because here in Asia I feel like a giant amongst these petite people I stand amongst, flat-footed and thick legs. You called me beautiful.

It was the first time anyone had said me beautiful.

But I won’t ask you to come back; I can’t. I promised to go away, to fade from your life, and give you your time back.

I promised, so I’m not going to do what I would otherwise foolishly, recklessly, idiotically do.

Just know that I am thankful, for your existence in my life, because you taught me to grow and to love, and how it was like to be loved in return.

Please take care, and stop drinking coke. If you’re ill, water! is the way to go. Please study smart, and if you can go to an American university eventually; the standard is much better, and you are so smart. Please play with Vodka and Valetina; I know that even animals desire to be touched and know that someone loves them. Tell your family that I will miss them, even papa and his beer belly. Please don’t forget me, and if you ever find someone new, someone better, someone who loved you like I did but knew how to express it, someone you could touch and be with, please, don’t tell me.


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