Path of Broken Dreams

As I trail the sidewalk, I catch the eyes of the passersby. I hardly know them. They hardly know me. Much do they care about my existence or non-existence. Inside the suits and glasses are frail bodies and weary eyes, surrendered dreams and pains of frustration.

These are the people whom students look up to. I once dreamt to be like them. And when I came to where they've been, the first step of the ladder, I can no longer say I still look up at them.

I know they aren't weak. It's just that they were too afraid to take the risk or they haven't seen the opportunity that comes with the risk.

When I reached the corner, I sat by a lamppost. And I thought to myself, "The happiest day of my life would be when I'm brave enough to leave this place."

The skyscrapers, parking lots and elevator cars. They all house similar things -- broken dreams. Despite the promise of a good life they seem to foster, they were prisons of willing and unaware victims.

The victims? As much as they believe they are free, they are chained to poverty and deprivation.

An Untold Story

Well, I've not posted much in here. If you want to read (almost) daily posts, proceed to restrained outbursts.

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I tell myself I'm over with this. But it keeps on coming back. The impact becomes lesser felt. But to what extent, I don't know.

We were the best of friends and then she came into the picture. It became them. I befriended her and episodes of Felicity was one of the few things we could talk about.

By then, he and I still wrote letters to each other. Even if only a thin wooden wall separates us. I still prepare snacks for him and supply him with things he'd use for the exams.

Then the time came that the wall between us became invisible and immensurable. It existed with an unknown form. But it was felt. Heavily felt.

One day I approached him and said we needed to talk. We did after classes have been dismissed. Then I said, "We can't be bestfriends anymore."

I saw tears in his eyes. And I was hurting at the same time. I was also asking myself, "Did I do the right thing?" I know I did. But when I saw the tears, that question turned into, "What have I done wrong?"

He said he loves me. Yes, he does. It was a different one from what he has for her and I was happy with that.

But I cannot settle for that. He was holding back.

Because of her.

With him, I didn't feel free. And I can't go on with it forever. We were labeled as "bestfriends" by everyone. But we can't write letters nor talk.

Because of her.

Close friends knew what happened. Some laughed. Some sympathized.

But I cannot forget that I got blamed.

They had a fight the next day. Being the "bestfriend," I was expected to provide the shoulder. And someone said I shouldn't have done what I did. Like I was also the one who caused their fight.

Of course, I didn't want that to happen. All I wanted was to be honest and salvage the friendship if I could. Everything has changed.

We did not talk for a long time. Everytime we meet at the corridor, a cold shoulder is what I get. I didn't talk to him because I didn't know what to say anymore. I didn't want to relive the pain once again.

Then we eventually got to talk and settled things. We were okay. I pretended to be.

A few days later, he gave me a letter. It was from her. I could not quite remember everything she wrote. Only a few lines were enough to keep me away from him.

I WAS THE BESTFRIEND. SHE WAS ONLY THE GIRLFRIEND. AND SHE WANTS HIM ONLY FOR HERSELF.

At first, I laughed at it. Until it finally sinked in.

First, I am not sure how to compare a bestfriend from a girlfriend. We were at different places and she wants to be at both.

Second, I wasn't stealing him from her. We were friends even before it became them.

Third, it was him who handed it to me.

Fourth, he's read it even before he gave it to me.

Fifth, it wasn't she who was losing him.

But neither do I. It was him who was losing me.

There was a time that he wanted to make it up. He goes to my class but I didn't want to talk. What can one expect me to say or do? Pretend to laugh when I wasn't okay? I am not a good actress.

It was childish, but I tried to escape from him. I walked out of the room and he'd follow me everywhere I go. I did not hate him. I just didn't know what was left to talk about. The good memories have been swept by a letter. I didn't know how to talk to him anymore.

He was a stranger I have to ran away from.

At times, I'd found him sitting and low. I wanted to approach him and just sit there. But then she was there.

Graduation came and we said our goodbyes. It was a good time to say goodbye.

We went to different universities and lost communication over a year.

It was after they broke up that we met again. We'd still fight for petty reasons still connected to what happened before.

One time, he fetched me at the university and we talked. I was too happy. It was the first time that he went there to talk to me. When I knew I'd forgiven him...

He wounded me again. Even deeper.

He said that during the time that we hardly talked to each other, it was not because he was too busy for her. He intentionally avoided me because she did not want him near me. She'd be mad and they'd end up arguing. Obviously, he didn't want that.

To my expense.

Yes, I got loved. But I didn't want it.

It was the kind that makes me have him and lose him at the same time.

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We still see each other until now but what happened before isn't something I'd easily forget. It's something that we wouldn't talk about and laugh at. We'd talk about what she did to him and what he did to her. But never a trace of a letter that passed from her, to him, and finally to me.

Over the years, this affected me more than I am aware of. Believing I am loved but not the way I wanted to be.

I do not want this love.

Because I have much more to give.