Nap Time Rocks!

Letters from ancient Rome

Well not really from Rome, I just wanted to give this post an apt title. I just uncovered some love letters and not-so-love letters from ages ago (and yes you can bet it’s cheeeeesy) and I just had to relive the memories…

—

R,

You know what, I’m tired. I’m tired of playing the game with you. You play me for a fool, every time we’re together lagi nalang tayo nag-aaway. Nakakasawa na. Ewan ko ba kung bakit nato-tolerate ko pa. Maybe because I love you too much. Too much it hurts. I want to believe you, but can you blame me if I find it so hard to do? I have a reason, don’t I? So hindi pala ako

paranoid for no reason. Lahat ng iniisip ko about you tama.

How could you do this? You’re making me feel like a spare tire, something to fall back on, just in case. You know what, I don’t deserve this. I keep thinking I should give you the benefit of the doubt but you just don’t give me enough reason to. I feel like I really don’t mean that much to you and that you’re just using me to feed your ego and to feel

secure. Well, wake up boy. Not everything has to go your way.

Note: Written during the frustrated days of being with someone whose habit was to be chronically unfaithful.

—

R,

I am gonna miss you. I’d lie if I say I wouldn’t. Why you have to go away this far, maybe it’s for the best. So I wouldn’t have to see you every week, so I wouldn’t have to look forward to seeing you every time. When you come back, when you’re through there in B, I don’t know if I’ll still be here then. Of course I’ll be here, I’m not going anywhere literally. But I don’t know if I’d still be here — for you.

Or maybe it’ll be the other way around. Maybe when you come back, you won’t be coming back to me. Maybe to someone else. Maybe it’ll still be her. Maybe when you’re away you’d still love her. She will still be your girlfriend.

It hurts, saying these things to myself. Trying to convince myself that you’re not the one for me. That I shouldn’t be loving you at all. I’m trying my best, R. I’m trying my best to unlove you. After all these years. Now you’re going away, maybe it’ll be a lot easier to unlove you.

You’ll be farther away, I won’t be seeing you, and some sinister self-gratifying thought tells me that you’ll be far away from her too. That seems oddly enough for me.

I love you, I still do. Hopefully that ends now, now that you’re leaving. Take care of yourself.

Note: About a year after finding out that the object of my desire and hatred was transferring elsewhere for work.

—

It’s amazing how emotions are contained in handwritten letters. These days, text messages don’t even do you justice. How could have we taken it for granted? Of course these letters were not sent at all; they were just outlets. Still, writing everything down can make a big difference compared to typing it up. Won’t you agree?