my best buddy!
You were my best buddy. We did everything together. We both loved the arts. Or kaartehan. Hehe. You would draw things from your imagination in great detail, while I would mostly color my paper with whatever I have and pass it off as art, as if I could ever fool anyone with it. We had a lot of really really good times. Highschool was a breeze. It was a lot of fun having you around with your fresh ideas and discovering a whole new approach on conventional methods given to us by our dear teachers. Even our science projects would turn out to be as craftily done by a real artist at heart. Be it science, math or P.E., you find ways to enjoy them through your arts.
And we were never apart. We were extremely exclusive. It’s like I’m in a different dimension when I’m with you. Carefree. A free soul. And we have grown very dependent upon one another. There was this one time, I missed half a day of school and you already have a letter waiting for me, telling me how you’ve missed me and how you didn’t had your recess, not knowing what to do without me. We were teased for being overly dramatic. That was us.
In time, I addressed this matter with you during one of the many long walks we had by the beach, and argued with you saying you don’t understand me. Being a very sentimental person that I am. I wasn’t sure what you made out of our argument, but when I came back after a long summer of worrying how I might be able to survive being apart from you, I decided to write you a letter. I wrote saying we should consider having others share in our friendship, that it wasn’t healthy being so exclusive and that we should know how to ready ourselves to attend college when no one will be familiar at first. I didn’t know what was going on in my mind then. I was panicking. Maybe I thought, if I insist on what I want, I might lose you, knowing you’re against it. I wasn’t sure I can learn to cope without you. That letter was my last hope of connecting with you. But you returned it in the secret pocket of my bag with bad doodles, which I found after a month later. By then it was too late. I had moped around and felt badly for not having you with me. Thereby making other friends and missing you a lot. I got what I wanted. We were totally into different set of friends. And I missed you a whole lot for about a year.
About a couple of weeks before we graduate, in the middle of some final reminders from our adviser, you raised your hand and asked for me. Our teacher was dumbfounded and asked in return, “What about Gloria?” (Yeah, what about me?) You stood up and just pointed at me in the room with your watery eyes and before our adviser could say another word, I rushed you out of the room. We both cried in the hallway that day. We missed each other so much. School was almost over and we cursed ourselves for being so stubborn. I knew then that I will never ever have a friend like you. The same way I knew I could never make up for lost times.
And we were never apart. We were extremely exclusive. It’s like I’m in a different dimension when I’m with you. Carefree. A free soul. And we have grown very dependent upon one another. There was this one time, I missed half a day of school and you already have a letter waiting for me, telling me how you’ve missed me and how you didn’t had your recess, not knowing what to do without me. We were teased for being overly dramatic. That was us.
In time, I addressed this matter with you during one of the many long walks we had by the beach, and argued with you saying you don’t understand me. Being a very sentimental person that I am. I wasn’t sure what you made out of our argument, but when I came back after a long summer of worrying how I might be able to survive being apart from you, I decided to write you a letter. I wrote saying we should consider having others share in our friendship, that it wasn’t healthy being so exclusive and that we should know how to ready ourselves to attend college when no one will be familiar at first. I didn’t know what was going on in my mind then. I was panicking. Maybe I thought, if I insist on what I want, I might lose you, knowing you’re against it. I wasn’t sure I can learn to cope without you. That letter was my last hope of connecting with you. But you returned it in the secret pocket of my bag with bad doodles, which I found after a month later. By then it was too late. I had moped around and felt badly for not having you with me. Thereby making other friends and missing you a lot. I got what I wanted. We were totally into different set of friends. And I missed you a whole lot for about a year.
About a couple of weeks before we graduate, in the middle of some final reminders from our adviser, you raised your hand and asked for me. Our teacher was dumbfounded and asked in return, “What about Gloria?” (Yeah, what about me?) You stood up and just pointed at me in the room with your watery eyes and before our adviser could say another word, I rushed you out of the room. We both cried in the hallway that day. We missed each other so much. School was almost over and we cursed ourselves for being so stubborn. I knew then that I will never ever have a friend like you. The same way I knew I could never make up for lost times.
No comments:
Post a Comment