There was a warning shot to where I was headed but I ignored it. It was the first time I felt unafraid and I marveled at that brand of adrenaline rush I felt when I woke up that day—like some utopian zeal that even falling would not petrify me. Though I had a STRONG feeling that my attempt to surprise will backfire, I was still oh so determined to get to where he was. So concerned with what he’s feeling that I really don’t care if I was sick too or if I end up leaving his house with a bullet in my chest. But he was sick and I needed to see him. I needed to know he’s going to be okay. What could be so dangerous and reckless in what I’m about to do anyway? So, I pay no heed to the next three warning shots that followed that day. Thinking that I was just being paranoid, I didn’t let anything faze me. No doubt. No order should impel me to retreat—even if my gut kept telling me that it will only end badly for me, I shoved it off. I never understood that feeling then, but I do now.
My Thursday afternoon journey to your house felt star-crossed that I almost recoil to the idea earlier that day for feeling so sketchy. There was this indescribable force that was conspiring against my will. The universe kept stalling as if it’s telling me that if I visit you, I will only end things too soon for the both of us. I felt the explosives in my path but I kept going, and the next thing I know, I was already pacing back and forth in your green gate battling with myself whether I should knock on your door or wait for your reply. Something suddenly felt off. Something is wrong and my instinct’s telling me to flee, but I was already there. There’s no turning back.
Thirty minutes passed…
My instinct didn’t fail me, yet again. I was in a state of shock forcing a smile to that old lady, a pang of disbelief almost made me want to drop on my knees when she said you were not there—when you were supposed to be there, remember?
It felt strange I could not talk about it at first, I know I wanted to protect you from the possible judgmental theories from my friends. Yes, this sounds so lame and just a trite white lie. But if a lie comes from the person you not only trust but look up to… it hurts. So there I was and here I am still dying a thousand deaths since that Thursday afternoon from that twisted scene in your green gate (probably the last and the closest image I’ll have of you) plastered in my car’s side mirror as I drove off.
Why did you have to lie?
Was lying that easy? Saying all those cute stuff, knocking me off my feet and in my most fearless moment, you’ll leave me dazed with a thousand unanswered why’s looming like large shadows above my head.
And you never even had the decency to apologize for it, you never explained yourself, and there was never a hint or any type of remorse from you.
Am I nothing to you? Coz I feel nothing to you. Like “we” were nothing to you.