I failed to apprehend why words flow out so easily when the subject i'm writing about is you.
The fact that you tend to become this intermittent figment of my subconscious has left me pondering away too; leaving me with a cloud of questions to answer or worse, be swallowed by remorse as I try to get through the day.
I recall how heat would emanate from my cheeks; a superfluous of pink exuding off them as I elude your presence in the class corridor; desperately wanting to be somewhere else to blush our encounter out of my system yet at the same time I'm longing to be a stone's throw away from you, valuing the vicinity of your presence.
My memory does not fail me in remembering how I had to refrain from smiling to myself as if I'm resembling someone utterly moonstruck when you speak. It does not get any better when you're conversing to me. How I would agilely pretend to be gracing the image of a decorous young lady as you're speaking; immensely articulate with a good balance of wit and wisdom together with a hint of humility as words roll pleasingly off your tongue. But deep down my heart wants to be liberated from my thorax as it's practically leaping from the palpitations with every syllable that zephyrs through me; replaying ceaselessly in the confines of my mind.
I reminisce the day I murmured a half-hearted congratulations to you. And from then on wards my mind kick-started a countdown along side a despondence knowing the fact that the impermanence of it all is the only thing that is certain.
There's one thing my usual timid facade never does and that is take a valiant leap of faith. My chivalrous act was unfortunately one I'd eventually lament, as soon as I found out about your rather abrupt change of heart. In many ways I was thankful for distance for it provided a remoteness from you after how you managed to fortify my feelings prompting my naive self to perceive the tangibility of what transpired.
My soul was tinged with acridity; I incessantly compared myself to who your heart took a liking for but at the end of it all I reluctantly realized that I commenced my own episodes of a heavy heart by my insolvable inability to let it go, to let you go despite my arduous effort to do so.
When you swiftly appeared again genuine shock took over me up to the point where it was overwhelming. My mind was baffled on the logistics of it all but my heart, my conscience was plumbed with vacillation. The internal debate carried on in solitude staring vacantly at three empty cubicles in my white dress. Whatever speech my throat managed to put together were nothing more than mere quivers and a safe distance was kept with the aid of an arsenal consisting of sheer oblivion that was regretfully fueled by pride.
And that was the first of many chains of remorse. I was purely petrified history would repeat itself; a recurring sense of dejection from you was not something my heart wanted to endure and so my modus operandi turned to making decisions using my pensive brain.
I had always hope you'll be the one to get past these walls I eclipse myself behind; but ultimately I mentally constructed more of them, shielding myself from the potential pain you could elicit. Encounters that proceeded reflected perhaps the highlight of my lamentation.
I've always been a guarded person, often letting self-consciousness chaperon the way I carry myself towards others. But the front I put up was rather extreme one. My face would be stoic, for I was fearful I would go back to being that girl who was flushing pink at the sight of you. I tried to keep whatever dialogue you initiated to a restrained exchange of words with minimal pleasantries; devoid of affinity and completely stolid.
It was out of sheer refusal; a defiance of reverting to the state of how I initially felt. Every droplet of delirium you sparked in my heart had to be brutally evaded. Although no matter how much I tried to champion this refusal I've failed to suppress what my heart was telling me miserably.
Among all people, why did you have to be my first?
I gave in; but I was too late.
I was mindful at the detriment I had dismally conjured, even more aware that the steps to rehabilitate any ounce of friendship we had would be absolutely futile. And the idea of a feasible relationship that I naively and subconsciously assumed that would ideally fall into place is completely perished.
Soon, I got a taste of my own medicine. The sting of disregard of my presence as I watch you carefully divert your gaze elsewhere; the pang of agony as I try to get closer to you but the radius between us is stretched by merciless avoidance. But what aches my heart the most is how I caused it.
Amid all those mixed signals I couldn't decipher, I lost myself and got tangled in getting even. I built up my walls that ended up burning a bridge so dear to me, and this guilt is perpetually engulfing my mind.
I failed to verbalize the words I still withhold, but my priority now is just to say "I'm sorry. I really miss you."
But we're suspended by this cold thread of silence.
