Photo by Diane Picchiottino on Unsplash

It’s amusing how someone could have such a significant influence on me. That particular person made me turn into a different individual: a hopeless romantic.

I made him a couple of playlists to show how lovestruck I am. I wanted all the tunes and lyrics to portray the amount of crush I had for him. One hundred love songs could not do justice because they are not enough to convey this abundance of feelings.

I wrote dozens of embarrassing journal entries, even published them too. It’s tough to remember how many pieces I composed only to convey small mundane things about him. What kind of books he read, favorite film — or the tiniest bit, like what sort of expression he showed me every single day. I wished he would stumble upon one of my writings and realize how much I cherished him. Those love notes are useless anyway. He didn’t even read them.

Then thousands of midnight voice recordings to capture the joy of our brief encounter. I acted absurdly on all of these recordings. I named each of the records based on the day and place we met. You can call it me being crazy of you. My phone storage is almost dying to keep them safe.

Count them as one of my hobbies: collecting mementos of you. Yet, after all these things I have done, I still can’t have you. I guess it’s time to delete them one by one — the mementos.

Who knows, maybe in another universe, we both had been exchanging mixtapes to the point that we ran out of references to love songs. Perhaps I had not been the only one who writes a diary because you secretly also write the magical things about me in your little brown notebook. Maybe in the middle of the night, I had not done monologues with my cell phone because there was your voice on the other end. You had been trembling a little since you were trying to hide the erratic heartbeat.

Perhaps in another universe, we had strolled around the city to sit and wonder. We had hung out in a quiet place just to read books and drink warm chocolate while waiting for the sunset. We had built our dream house with a touch of our elements. We had listened to our comfort songs and driven in the middle of the night to scream and cry for no reason. We had been a supporting system to each other. We had been a team. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just us being together would be enough.

But I’m only dreaming with a broken heart.

It took me years to finally open my memento. It was full of dust yet the memories were still crystal clear as if they happened yesterday. The day I knocked your direct message to write my most sincere confession, I decided to erase you. I gave up the mementos. I decided to let the boxes go, letting the pieces of you vapor away just like I’m letting go of my hope for you.

Goodbye, the time after those words felt like a long day. It finally ends. After years of waiting for a slight welcome from you, I surrendered, not to you anymore, but to the fate that will never work for both of us.

I believe in another universe, we had said see you tomorrow instead.



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