I’ve always thought that I’m the kind of person who likes clinging to the past. Lately I realize that maybe I depend a little bit too much on my past.
For the last few days, I’ve been chatting a lot with someone who used to have a special place in my heart. I know it sounds cliché. And maybe this is another cliché post about the so-called love.
It surprises me that I really enjoy talking to him. I know that technically we’re still friends and everything, but knowing that someone still remember little things about you, well, it’s something. I’ve always had a soft spot for sweet gestures, and this is one of it. Six years without meeting each other and minimum communication, and he still remembers things I even forget about myself. Like how I’m scared of frogs, or how I wasn’t all that keen on taking shower (it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just I don’t want my skin to lose its natural moist. Ahem), or the kind of aspirin I used to take, or my favorite band. I have to admit that my heart skipped a bit when I found out that he still remembered my favorite movie, Pearl Harbor.
We chatted for hours, from midnight till the dawn broke, and we never seemed to run out things to talk about. I talked about my plan after I graduate, and so did he. We talked about how our weddings will be, and even throw don’t-forget-to-invite-me joke. We talked about how we started dating, and how we ended it. Correction: how I ended it. Surprisingly, it went well with lots of laugh. I smiled as I reminisced the time I brought my cell phone when I took a shower just because I wanted to keep texting him. I laughed when he told me how the school went mad when we broke up, and how all the teachers (and by all I mean all, really, all without exception) asked him what happened and he was the one who didn’t have the choice except to answer because I’d already moved to another city. I almost cried in desperate longing for my hometown when we talked about the time we went out and played in the rain, all soaked and happy.
We talked about how we missed our hometown. He said, “Oh, I wish we could turn back time.” And I replied, “If we could turn back time, I wouldn’t have asked you for a break up.” He didn’t know, but it was a truest confession. He did ask why, but I didn’t give him any clear explanation. I just pretended it was a joke. After all, he already has someone he does care about.
Maybe I’ll deny I’ve said this, but there’s nobody that knows me better than him. Even after all these years of rarely talking and not meeting, he still remembers me. And it’s nice to know that at least someone cares about me. It’s nice to know that although things change and a lot of people change, there’s someone who stays the same.
I know I’m six years late to ask for a special place again, or at least to fix things. But for someone whose name begins with an E, thank you.