THE BLACK BOOK

Let me tell you something about this book. It’s a compilation of bittersweet notions about my College Freshman Love escapades. The entries are pure drama of the brokenhearted, full of explanations why I exist as a hopeless romantic. Sounds pathetic? Well, all except for those written for one particular person who launched a seemingly unexpected missile in my heart, one who was worth all the brown pages and all the ink in the world to write about. My fairy tale adventure with him was nothing but ordinary.

15th day of November 2008; 11:48 PM

It's been three years since I wrote something in this particular black book. Now I'm writing again. Do you know what this means? It's still isn't over. I may have written the world's most melodramatic letter saying I've given up and would never fall for him anymore but that's all crap now. Because whatever I do ar attempt at, I always end up thinking about him and all the possibilities that could have been. Well, it's not as intense as before, yet no matter how hard I try to get past the burden of having feelings for him, they keep coming back like it's already a part of me. I tried to ignore everything that has to do with him because I know for a fact that whatever these feelings are, they're better left in the dark. He's happy with her. They're happy. Period.

For a while there I thought that the best way to let go was to tell him the truth, to tell him how I feel because only if they're out in the open could I set my heart free; only then could I move forward and on with my life. Believe me, I had all the chances in the world to confess, yet my fears always get the best of me. Scaredy cat. And then what? All I have now are regrets, helpless thoughts wondering if I've just given it a try. Right at this precise moment, I'm battling with my instincts whether to text him or dial his number just to leave a missed call; just so he knows that I remember him, or that I still exist. (Hello?! I'm still here!) Maybe he's studying right now. Maybe he's with her. Maybe he's already asleep. I don't know. Damn, I don't know - just like with everything else in my life right now. I should be practicing with my IELTS sample tests but what am I doing? Writing in this black book seems more of a big deal than preparing for my future. But then again, maybe I miss this. Maybe I miss this version of me who was once sure of herself, of her feelings. Maybe I miss being the girl who was still able to dream, one who was hopeful for the love of a boy who was a perfect match to her soul.

It's been exactly three years, six months, eight days since that fateful day when my heart started beating for him. As far as I'm concerned, it has always been that way and I'm afraid it would stay that way forever.