Tuesday, June 01, 2010

You saw the note I left you. But it was a week late. It had been the Monday after the Friday that you chided me badly, just over work. It wasn't the scolding, it had been the eyes that have killed my heart. For what I hear, I forget; what I see, I remember; and what I do, I understand. Your eyes were so determined and strong. That made the words a lot more harder to swallow. It had been a terrible weekend thereafter. Your words; those pair of killing eyes kept replaying in my mind whenever it found time to idle. That was the final straw you threw. I never felt so heart broken. Almost betrayed. Almost forsaken to die.

And there was Monday. I saw your letter lying on my table. Without a doubt it's your handwriting. Each individual handwriting is unique. One look and I knew it was from you.

I didn't dare to open it up and have a look. The uncertainties were too great. Too scary for me. The element of unknown kept me away from opening it immediately.

I brought it home. I locked myself in the room and prepared for the words you've prepared for me. Then, I opened and read.

At that point, all had been lost. What you've written had come too late. I shrank back into my shell and into my comfort zone once more. All that was left was a fiery outer-shell that stood to protect my fragile, bleeding but recovering heart. I was angry and furious, thus none of your words healed me. I wrote in my flickr photo, Macabre III:

It hadn't been the best time for you to apologize, nor was it the best time to point out what I've done wrong within the same letter you seek to apologize.

Yes, I acknowledge that I hadn't been the best, and was always causing you hurt. I'm really sorry. As I reflect upon some things that I've done and hurt you, I cannot forgive myself. I had been selfish and inconsiderate. Some times I feel you've stepped over the line too, but this is not the time to talk about such things. I seek to reconcile, and taking these to stride is the only thing I can do.

My tone, my choice of words, and my gestures. I never really consciously realize it. Insensitive me. Once again, it is my fault. Nothing I say in my defense will repair this. "It is a reason before you actually do something. But this reason becomes an excuse after you've done it and asked to explain." If you want to hear this excuse, do look for me. I do have a story to tell.

I'm sorry that I had put you in an awkward position. I never intended. Never wanted. Another shouldn't suffer because of the mistakes I've made. It's entirely my bad.

To end off, I want to really thank you for this letter. Because eventually, a few weeks down the road I came to realize what you had to say. It was only when the wall of fiery had subsided that I was able to see with clear eyes once more. I really appreciate it.

And now, it's time to move on. Our friendship is broken as it is. As I hate to say this. Without trust, friendship will never hold true. Things that have gone this way will never return back to what it was before. It's really really saddening.

Perhaps till I can trust myself to be nice and considerate will I be able to start making new friends once more.

P/S: I do not hate you, nor do I see my friend in you. Some times, I still find myself trying to search for the friend I once knew. Hoping that maybe I will find this friend..