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“Why doesn’t the world stop it?
I've moved on already,” I told my friend while I cried.
It's hard not to cry when the tears follow you the minute an inch of
a smile makes its way.
One of my greatest dilemmas is the problem of leaving the stigma
behind. I know it's my fault why I'm labeled as such but I don't
like being labeled the obsessed girl. I am not obsessed.
As Kirsten Dunst's character in my all-time favorite movie Eternal
Sunshine of the Spotless Mind said, “I was just a stupid girl with a
stupid crush.”
To raise the standards, it wasn't just a stupid crush. As far as I'm
concerned, stupid crushes don't make 20/20 vision eyes black out.
I take pride in saying I fell in love with my fellow athlete a year
ago. I also take pride in saying that yes, I was a stupid girl.
The crazy confession which initially started because of a pair of
nice-fitting jeans from my favorite clothing line ended with a hodge
podge of unquenchable desire to be part of someone else's life. This
is something one overanalyzing person can't fathom despite the ample
time given for her to understand.
She was and still is the hardest essay question of my life's exam.
There was nothing special with the way she looked. She was rather
dull and boring. She looked quiet and shy and observant and refined.
She was taller than me which at first felt rather bizarre because
I'm usually the taller one. Her voice was soft and oftentimes
inaudible from a distance.
Unexpectedly, she was very articulate, smart and focused with the
things she was passionate about. When I found all these out, one
after the other, all I wanted was to be close to her. All I wanted
was to be close enough to hear her without her saying anything
which, for the record, remains the same after more than 365 days.
I blew my chances when I got myself drunk and god knows what
happened next.
We were on our third week of highly-connecting everyday
conversations and I divulged all my feelings towards her through a
long typographical-error-filled text message. I told her I thought I
had a crush on her because she can play classical guitar and she's
athletic and she has my dream car and she has all the books I want
to have. I told her I kept on thinking about her and our
conversations were the mere reason why I wake up excited to go
training everyday.
I told her given all these factors, and the way she makes me feel
when we breathe in the same room, that what I feel for her would be
underestimated if I label it as just a crush.
 I
told her a crush was too shallow so I told her I was wrong with what
I thought.
I defended myself by saying I didn't tell her I was in love with
her. We were just getting to know each other; I can't possibly love
someone I don't really know.
But I did tell her I was loving every detail of her I was slowly
finding out. I told her I don't have a crush on her and I don't love
her.
But I did tell her it feels like I'm getting close to it.
This caused her to avoid me and I forever regret that mistake I did.
Luckily, she made the first move to patch things up and my assuming
hopeful self thought I was back on track. Unfortunately, I wasn't.
There wasn't the tango anymore. Our friendship resembled that of a
cha-cha. By default, every time I'd step close, she'd step back.
Despite her avoidance I continued figuring her out through the rare
times we talk. I googled her and upon knowing our social network was
closely connected, I took advantage.
The song Moon by Sia which reminded me of her had a line which went,
“The world spins for you.” Accordingly, I made my world spin for her
all the more.
As expected, I got her even more scared.
So I took a step back. Truth is, I took a gazillion steps back. I
gave up. I was surprised that I, the girl she kept on teasing on
being too competitive, gave up.
And of all things to give up on, I gave up on that one thing I was
sure I really wanted.
I told the world I'm worn out. I kept on saying, “I'm worn out
unappreciated.”
I wasn't just tired. I was worn out waiting for the sun to shine for
the darker side of the moon. She, all I wanted, just felt so
impossible.
Looking at myself at a different perspective, I found out a lot
about the new me. Everything just seemed clearer and refreshing. I
love what I have become.
Although my walls have become higher and thicker, I built more open
windows to compensate my occasionally closed door.
Although I am now sometimes too cautious, I am more logical and
reasonable when it comes to the things I say and do.
She changed my priorities. She changed the way I see things and the
way I think. She changed me and a lot of my things-to-do-list.
So I'm faced with the dilemma which another friend told me as she gave me
a light pat on the shoulder.
“She's your dormant love. You'll be able to move on but you will
always love her. And you'd have to live with that. You said she's
your life-altering girl, that's what life altering girls do—they
stay.”
I sobbed right after hearing my friend said those to me. She was
right.
Just a week ago I saw her again. I got to talk to her and see her
smile again. She was just two steps away from me when she did and
looking back, my spine shivers with so much content and fear
combined. She's still here. I have moved on but she will always be
that one girl. And the rest of the world who wants to be part of my
life will just have to compete with that.
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