I am the kind of person who would 

stay up all night

to listen to you

talk about 

whatever’s on your mind

and to help you

confront your obstacles

and here you are

leaving me on hold

talking to other people

and making me feel


and it’s sad to see

that I am ready

to walk through the desert

for someone

who is not willing

to cross the backyard

on a hot summer day

for me. 

Him // September 3rd, 2000

It’s time to speak up. I don’t know what’s going on with me.

Usually I’m all for meeting new people and making new friends, but in his case, I refuse. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse. I can’t bear to see him drift away from me like that.

Recently, I found out he had a new friend he talked to all the time, and she seems like she’s better than me. No, wait. She is better than me. Prettier, smarter, funnier.

I can’t think of the number of times when he said that she has told him something last night, and broke my heart. Why is he talking to her so much?

What is this load on my chest?

I’m jealous. I admit it. I am goddamned jealous.

Everytime she says his name, and how much the both of them laughed the night before, I die a little inside. It hurts because I’m afraid. I’m scared that he’ll eventually love her more, that he’ll eventually forget me the way he forgets a lot of things he never thinks of again, that he’ll eventually stop talking to me and turn away from me forever.

I know I’m not perfect. I know that I probably even suck, and that I’m not as gorgeous, smart, or funny as she is, but if there’s one thing I can do that she can’t is loving him like no one has ever loved him before. I tried being his shoulder to cry on and his escape from the tragedies of life, all for one reason: to ensure he’ll never leave. Something went wrong, apparently, but I’ll find a way.

I don’t know how he makes me feel that way, and I certainly don’t know why he makes me feel that way, but he does. I’ll get him back, I have to.

Still Writing About You

I remember when I first met you…you were that attractive and happy person who was always smiling. I would repeatedly think about your smile, dreaming that I could be the reason behind it someday.

Then we started talking. We would talk for hours about things that made sense and things that didn’t. We’d discuss important issues and trivial matters. We just talked, losing track of the time we spent together.

The days went by, and we still talked. But, oddly, I felt empty. I found out you were close to someone else. You were as close to that person as you were to me, and I didn’t like it. Call me selfish, but I wanted to be the one you’d share you secrets with. And when you got in a fight with that other person, I was satisfied. However, other people came into your life, and you were so weak you just couldn’t resist letting them in. Other people found out about your hidden sensitive soul, and suddenly, I realized I wasn’t someone important anymore.

Now, I feel like you and I are drifting away from each other, and the only thing I could do is continue writing about you, hoping that someday you’d read my notes and realize that I was always there for you, longing for your love, fighting to get my special place in your life back.

— December 13th, 2001 —

A Conversation

Jane Roberts, 17 years old.
Gwen Keller, the best friend, 17 years old.

Saturday, May 5th, 4:30 P.M.

“Jane,” said Gwen, “After I transferred to another school in California, I wasn’t able to keep up with the news.”

“What news?”

“You know, our ‘squad’s’ news. How’s everyone? Rebecca? Mike? Tracy? Nick?

Jane shrugged.

“Well,” she began, “We’re all fine. Tracy and Mitchel Turner have been a couple for almost two weeks now. Rebecca has finally joined the drama club and Nick is officially captain of the football team.”

“Speaking of Nick,” interrupted Gwen, “What a transformation! I didn’t recognize him! I mean now, without the poindexter glasses and after the insane acne treatment, he looks amazing.”

Jane contemplated the latte she had ordered  few minutes ago. She started twirling her spoon in the cup, and observed the swirly outcome.

“Jane? Jane! What? Jane!” Gwen was snapping her fingers.


“I started talking to you about this cool new clothing store down the block but you weren’t listening. What’s wrong?”

Jane could feel her heart racing.

“Nothing, nothing. My swirly latte is pretty…mesmerizing.”

Did you really think a girl would be able to fool her best friend?

“Tell me.”

Jane bit her lip and finally confessed, “Okay. The thing is Nick has a crush on Rosie, the new girl. He’s been talking to her most of the time…”

“He likes someone? That’s adorable!” exclaimed Gwen.

“Yeah, adorable. Anyway, you know that Nick is also my best friend. He’s been so distant lately. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, he’s always looking at his phone when I’m talking to him, he never shuts up about Rosie, recently he’s only been talking to me about all ‘Rosie’s girly acts’ that he can’t seem to understand, he’s really cold and dull whenever we’re having a conversation, he sees my messages but doesn’t answer and basically he’s ignoring me.”

Gwen wiped away her grin.

“Oh, my. But as his best friend you should be supportive of his likes and dislikes and interests…unless, you know, you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just really upset that this girl is coming between us, that she is his prio…heck. Nick has never been so distant with me. He’s barely talking to me these days and I don’t like it. How rude are you to see a message but not answer?!”

“Jane, calm down.”

“Sorry. But when I ran into Rosie in the hallway, I bumped into Tony Parker and dropped my books. She picked them up for me. She’s really nice, and just after she walked with me till the end of the hallway, she told me that Nick’s been trusting her a lot, and he shared with her whatever he had to share.”

Gwen grinned again.

“Ohhhhh. So that’s what’s bothering you! He’s sharing his happy thoughts and discussing his problems with someone else.”

“I don’t know, Gwen. That used to be us. We used to talk about everything and now we’re not. The worst part of the story is realizing how hurt I am. So, I’m trying my best to always stick by his side. More than Rosie. More than anyone else. I’ll admit it…I’m fighting the hardest for a tiny leftover place in his life.”




The Forgotten

There’s something strange and disturbing about the sorrow growing in my heart.

What’s strange is that the sorrow is delightful. I don’t know. Oddly, I don’t mind it.

Perhaps it’s because I know the reason behind it. I looked at my phone, no messages. Of course. Who needs me anyway?

That’s the problem with people nowadays; you could spend days waiting for that message, but you end up facing the biggest disappointment ever.

That’s the thing about us humans. We expect too much from people. We become delusional. We expect them to talk to us first, to remember us, to remember the tiniest of details, to call us just to say they miss us, to surprise us with trips to the Caribbean, to love us without betrayal, to always be honest with us. The even funnier part of the story is that we always create the drama because people forget us, or because we think people don’t care.

My problem, however, is that I expect too much, I care too much, and I love too much.


Love: an intense feeling of deep affection.
Care: the provision of what is necessary for the protection of someone or something.

Love and Care. The two most beautiful things in the world, yet the two most awful pains. I remember how much I cared, how much I loved, how happy I was by the compassion I displayed, as well as remember every thorn that was planted in my heart in return.

“I’m done with this crap,” I said to myself, about a billion times. I fall in the trap every time.

The worst thing is finding out people ignore us on purpose, or forget to send a message saying they couldn’t talk at the moment.

Admit it. People like you and me are born to be the forgotten. The ones who aren’t invited to concerts, or to parties, or to gatherings or whatever. The ones whose phones are believed to be dysfunctional because their sound is never heard. The ones who cry themselves to sleep because they think it’s their fault for caring.

Remember what I said? That sorrow was delightful? Well, it’s because I got used to it.

Remember your very first cigarette? How awful it tasted? Do you hate it now? That’s what I thought. You got used to its taste, so you find pleasure in it. My sadness is the same thing. Was atrocious at first, but now that it’s been growing on me like a vine, it’s part of me from now on. I find it delightful.



“I checked my phone: I had no messages. That’s what cell-phones are used for; realizing no one thinks about you. Before, we could always dream that someone wanted to find a way to contact us, to talk to us, to love us. Today we live with that object that materializes our solitude.” – David Foenkinos.

I’ll be there

You know,

It’s okay if you want to leave me in order to meet someone new. I understand. I don’t mind no longer being the one with whom you share your problems, regardless of how serious or little they are. I have absolutely no problem with not being the one who makes you laugh when you need it. I’m not asking you to take me to prom, mainly because I know you wouldn’t even think of inviting me in the first place. It’s okay. You moved on and made new friends, and I’m happy for you. You found someone who is much better than I am…prettier, smarter, funnier.

But just know, I’ll always be there. I know that you might have forgotten everything we shared in the past few years, but trust me, I’ll always be there. Not because I’m a clingy, emotional wreck, but because I never stopped being there. Sometimes you didn’t even need me, but you just wanted to talk…to anyone. And so we did. You see? Even for trivial matters, I was there. So, go ahead and take a step forward…move on with your life and forget about me. But if you ever decide to come back, I’ll be there.


(credits to the Twitter user who tweeted this picture.)