So close, yet so far.
We were literally so close to each other. At lunch break with the team, you always sit next to me. On the ride home from school, you always sit next to me. We go to the same school. We live in the same city. We live in the same village. That’s how I know that we share the same exact sky every morning, every night, and even at the break of dawn.
We were so close… so close that I started to think that maybe you are the one. It was odd enough that I dreamt of you one night during the days when the relationship I had with my recent ex was on the verge of breaking apart. Was that dream a sign? Maybe… maybe not. It became odder on the day when him and I decided to call it quits; it was the same day as your birthday. Coincidence? Maybe… maybe not.
When I was down and out and full of hatred with the world, our paths crossed more often than ever before. Seeing you made me smile and being with you made my day. Then we started going home together every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
We were so close that my head started looking into the possibility that maybe it’s you all along… maybe you were the one that I have been waiting for all this time.
Or maybe not.
We have gotten so close that even during that time when I realized that it was her whom he really loves, I was seated next to you. So close that I even got a first-hand look of how your eyes lit up every time you talked to her. Like I said before right? So close, yet so far.
You were with me all the time by body. But you left your heart in her hands.
You fall for one. They fall for another.
Maybe you’re not really the one. Maybe you’re just another sad story of unrequited love in my book of memories. Maybe now is the time for me to let you go, even if you weren’t really mine to keep.
Maybe for you, it was nothing at all. But for me, it was a lot like love. It was a fairy tale where the knight saves the princess in distress from the dragon’s lair, and decides to call her his ‘dearest friend’ when they reached a village of trolls. A fairy tale no one bothers to read about, or worse, to even finish writing about.
But, my love, at least we started one. At least.