Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Miss Nineteen Ninety-Seven

I miss you. I've been trying to write but nothing arrives. I know, I know that I just have to give time for it, to sit there and open up. I know all that, but I'm searching for something. Maybe I'm searching for you, for those lost, long nights that we talked and drank wine outside a darkened chapel. That scene haunts me. Walking across the car park, hugging you on the front steps, our countless dinners, that off-shoulder shirt you wore, revealing your smooth shoulder and emphasizing your young, slender neck. I wanted you, I was crazy for you. I realized that our deep discussions was like foreplay for me. I could have made love to you so many times. I miss that depth of sharing, the ideas and feelings. I never had that since. I regret that we didn't end up together, and I regret that I deleted all our emails. I was angry with you for the longest time, because I couldn't love you.

And now, only now, I realize that I've been literally so lost without you. And that all is lost, it's too late for anything, even for dreams and hopes and second chances.

All I have are memories and remembered fantasies. I know the idealized you, the lost you, the never-to-be-recovered you. And it is you that intrudes my thoughts when I write.

When I write, when I try to stir up my imagination, when I try to dip into the pool of creativity, I am always reminded by the exhilaration I felt when we were together. Here's another cliche: I was so alive when I was with you.

You, you, you. It's always been about you.

Now, I'm just stuck with my self, my sorry self and my reliable self-pity. The first few years were really bad, which contributed to my clinical depression. Nowadays, it just comes as an incessant dissatisfaction. A blah-ness in my daily life.

I never thought I'd still be alive at this age. I never planned for this.

They say that some writers write about the same thing over and over again, in different ways, in different works, in different times. I just might be one of those writers.

And you, yes, you.

You will probably never know this, but you were the one.

I was in love with you, and I loved you. I was truly, madly, deeply in love with you. And what did you say?

You said that you will invite me to your wedding.


basangpanaginip said...

You're Back!

I've mentioned your blog here:
The Sexiest Filipina Bloggers

'Twas a year ago, but hey, I'm just glad you've updated your blog.

wensleydale said...

Hi basangpanaginip (everyone seems to call you Michael), it's such a pleasant surprise to be greeted back. It has been a while and I'm not all here.

Thanks for including me in your list. Here's a crazy idea: a private party for the sexiest Filipina bloggers, with you as the host. But, as you said, the list is a year old. I suppose you have an updated list.

Of course, I wouldn't go. It would be great fun, I imagine.

I'm trying to write again, so let's see how it goes.