If paths were to have memories, then this road that leads us to school would know me best. You were almost always there beside me, and with you, I didnt have to pretend. It was easy being me.
Even the simplest joys of life made me ecstatic when I was in your presence. The sunshine took on a warmer, fuzzy quality; the petrichor mingled with the rain had an unusually sweet scent. When it snowed, it bought with it the nostalgia of the snowball fights of our adolescent days. We would both grin as we talked about it. Even ice cream tasted better, which shouldn't be possible.
I still remember the day I first met you. I was in a foul mood for some reason I can't quite recall. I sat there on that park swing, glaring at the other children who were happily playing tag, when you suddenly jumped in front of me with that customary goofy grin of yours. To be honest, I was pretty annoyed at first, but then you cracked a joke, and a reluctant laugh burst out of me. Back then, I had no idea what love meant, but if I had, then maybe the flutter of my heart would have been a lot easier to explain.
You were the new kid in the neighborhood. Everyone wanted to be friends with you, thanks to your flashy personality, your habit of cracking jokes even at the most inappropriate times, and your ability to charm anyone.
When it turned out you were living next door to me, I was exhilarated enough to do a happy dance.
Annoying as I might have seemed at first, we ended up becoming friends. It started with us teaming up against the other neighborhood kids to exchanging messages by writing them on our window panes. We even enrolled at the same school, although it was disappointing for both of us when we didn't end up in the same class. I had no right to complain though, because you always walked me home.
Every day after school, I'd walk out and like my knight in shining armour, you'd be there, waiting for me. Whenever I saw you standing there, something squeezed in my chest. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach. I was the happiest I had ever been, but at the same time, I couldn't help but want more of you. You were there with me, yet you weren't quite mine.
Time flowed, but nothing progressed between us. It wasn't quite so bad. Aside from the usual stab of longing, I didnt mind things staying the same for now. I was willing to wait as long as I had to. And just like that, we were in the senior year of high school. I watched the colour of your eyes darken over time. Before, they used to be the shade of honey, but now they were like dark chocolate, only to soften back to their original state in the sun. I was there when your features slowly refined into perfection, when your voice became deeper, when stubble appeared on your face, when you grew so tall that you surpassed my height. Somehow, that innocent little crush of mine evolved into something more. Something I couldnt explain, or control, or predict. It dictated my every action and consumed my every thought.
Even our friends noticed its existence between us. The guys started calling me your girlfriend. I would have been flattered, had they not meant it sarcastically. They made it very clear that they didnt approve of a loner like me. You were leagues above me and I wasn't worth your attention. Even the girls shot me glares of envy and confusion. They didnt understand why you would pick someone like me. To be honest, I didnt get it either. I wasn't beautiful or desirable; I didnt have a golden personality like yours; yet you still chose to be with me out of all the people in world. Maybe it was just dumb luck that I happened to live next door to you, and we happened to become childhood friends.
It was during times like this that I was forced to wonder if the thing between us was actually real or not. Had it all just been in my head?
However, every time I distanced myself from you to figure out the answer, you were there to revive my faith in us through your actions. The jabs of your friends didnt sting me anymore. You were worth fighting for.
As the years passed, I realized that the best memories I had often took place on this road, because you were always here with me. You were here to share my laughter, to get happy on my behalf, to console me when I was down, to include me in the events of your own life. When I was with you, even the most unamusing tale could make me laugh.
I wanted you, and you indulged me.
I wished I could see myself through your lens, maybe then I'd learn to love myself more. I wanted to know if you sought me as intensely as I sought you; if my absence was as gut-wrenching for you as it was for me; if you also counted the hours before you could see me again.
If they asked you for your favourite memory, I wonder if it would include me. As for me, I thought it would always remain that one time when we were in the ninth grade. Do you remember it? I had the worst day in school, and once I saw you outside, I couldn't hide my frustration anymore. All my anger and sadness drained out of my system in a puddle of tears. Even though I couldn't stop crying that day, I still did not want you to see my tear-stained and blotchy face. So instead of talking, I balled my eyes out for the whole evening leaning on that lamppost statue by the side of the road. You did not utter a single word. You snaked your arms around me and just sat there. For hours, you held me as I sobbed, and let me cry on your shoulder.
Before today, that memory used to be sacred for me. I only relived it when I was in the most dire need of cheering up, but now - as I'm sitting beneath this same statue, crying just like that day, maybe even more so - that nostalgic memory is almost as painful to relieve as it is to breathe right now.
I'm still the same pathetic girl with an unrequited crush, sitting beneath the same statue, crying the same tears. The only difference is you. Last time, I had you holding me, and now I'm all alone.
Its hard to accept that it was only yesterday when I genuinely believed you could ever love me, but that was before you saw her. Unlike me, she's 'girlfriend material' according to the guys at school. She's pretty and confident and popular and everything I'm not.
If you have always known you wanted someone like her, then why did you indulge me all those years? I'm sure you've known it all along, deep in your heart, how I've longed for you. I've never said it out loud, but since when did we need to spell things out to each other?
You've known my feelings, and that you'd never reciprocate them either, but you still allowed me to hope. You let me believe that I had a chance, that it was only a matter of time. You were too selfish to speak the truth or to let me go, even if it meant hurting me beyond repair.
It amazes me how you never even hesitated to follow her. I was standing right beside you the whole time. You saw the shock and the hurt on my face, and immediately looked elsewhere, before running after her like a dog would chase a bone. The fact that you didn't even have the guts to meet my eyes was proof enough that you've been playing me. It wasn't just in my head. You made me follow you, made me believe there was an us, handing out scraps of hope and attention every time I began doubt began to settle in my heart, only to discard me now, when you no longer need me.
You pretended to be a stranger when we ran into each other in the halls again, at her request no doubt. When I exited the school, for the first time since the day I've known you, you werent waiting there to walk me home. No text, no explanation. You chose to walk out of my life without a word. It was probably for the best you weren't there considering the tears I was too weak hide.
The tears that I am too weak to hide, or I wouldn't be sitting here on the ground, leaning on a goddamned lamppost statue for support while I quietly weep because my entire reason for existing is gone in a flash.
***
I don't remember how long I sat there or how much I cried, but when I was finally able to muster back enough strength to tear my swollen eyes open, it was dark. The sky was inky black: no sign of the moon or the starts.
I waited for my eyes to readjust and focus; only they never did. Instead, the air was suddenly gone. I couldn't breathe at all. As I continued to hyperventilate, I could swear the darkness was closing in on me from all sides.
Looking back on it, I realize it probably wasn't that dark but that day, no matter how much I strained my eyes, my mind couldn't comprehend much beside the black coils surrounding me, inside and out.
Maybe it had something to do was the shock of losing him, or the fact that I had clawed at my eyes for hours to get rid of the unwanted tears.
Whatever it was, it seemed like I had an invisible wound deep inside me, and it was festering faster than I could take it.
I struggled to steady my breaths without much luck. My lungs hurt so bad I thought I was going to die from the pain. Maybe I would have, if the light hadn't saved me.
I was still struggling to breathe when out of nowhere this golden light sprayed on me. I emptied my mind, focusing only on its source, a blinding orb floating right above me. I squeezed my eyes, and through the narrowed slits, I saw the shimmering bulb of the lamppost statue.
Two things happened simultaneously at that moment. First, my lungs started functioning again and I could breathe. Second, a thought popped up in my mind. Why should I be the one feeling miserable?
It took a few hours of crying, almost suffocating to death in a panic attack and a bulb to literally light up on my head, for it occur to me that if anyone should be sorry, it was him.
I had not lost anything. It was pointless to cry over something I never had to begin with. On the other hand, the same could not be said about him. Not only was he unfortunate enough to lose his best friend but also the person who loved him more than the world itself, and for what? For a relationship which I could guarantee wouldn't last long. He traded me for a girl who would take him for granted; who would never understand him or appreciate him the way I did.
On top of that, he wasn't even smart enough to realize his loss.
An unfamiliar emotion swirled within me. To my satisfaction, it was pity. For him. Maybe it was because all my tears had already flowed out and I had none left in me, but I did not feel like crying anymore. So I wiped my face, gazed at the lamppost statue, like we shared some unsaid secret and staggered back home.
