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rewritethepast[Note: This is not about him. This is about someone else from my old school. That's De La Salle Zobel, if you didn't know.]
"When tomorrow comes again, things will go, 5-6-7,
Rollin' in various directions as they always have..."
-Cream, Ghost in the Shell
It's silly. Really, I thought that chapter was all done and closed when I left that school.
I guess it was all wishful thinking on my part.
I saw him again. I saw him in first year, in second year, and now again when I'm fourth year, how many months away from graduating. Always in one place, that Powerbooks store that's the closest to where I live, at ATC.
He still looks the same. Tall, dark, and... well, you know the rest. He was still himself, and I was the girl I was back then all over again, meeting him once more in the school mass when he sat next to me. (Our school tried to decrease talking during mass by having girls be seated next to boys from other sections. Not that it worked.) Back then, there was only silence between us. Now, there always will be.
It's stupid. It's infantile. But I can't help but feel sad about it.
He was my first real crush after all, the one I thought about in grade school while learning all the progressive tenses and memorizing all the bones in the skeletal system. He was the one you said you had a crush on during sleepovers, the one people tease you about whenever you recite in class.
He wasn't even my classmate then. (We were never classmates. Never could be, with his grades compared to mine.) We never really talked back then, except on the internet. (We talked about silly things too, like our mutual dislike of graduation ceremonies and his brief stint with politics.) I never even knew he existed as himself back then, only becoming aware of his presence when he sat next to me in the school mass one day in grade 6.
Baka. There was never anything between us, and there never will be. (We were never truly friends, after all. Close acquaintances, maybe, but never friends.) Never mind all the dreams there were of him, made up of all the things that went into Sweet Valley books. Never mind the teasing my classmates gave me whenever I defended him from his political detractors.
There was just me, him, and an insurmountable bridge between us. I was too smart for him, they said, and he was too popular for me to enter his world.
In the end, he never really knew me, did he?
It's silly, but when I saw him again that day in Powerbooks something broke in me when he didn't even know who I was anymore. (I looked at him, he looked at me, and he walked by. It was never like that before, but time goes by, I guess.)
Tell me I'm stupid, but I guess that's part of being a teenager. I guess this really is goodbye then to that life I lived before.
Let that door be shut now, and let it stay shut. That's what the new year is all about, anyway, forgetting all the bad stuff from before and moving on.
"When tomorrow comes again, things will go, 5-6-7,
Rollin' in various directions as they always have..."
-Cream, Ghost in the Shell
It's silly. Really, I thought that chapter was all done and closed when I left that school.
I guess it was all wishful thinking on my part.
I saw him again. I saw him in first year, in second year, and now again when I'm fourth year, how many months away from graduating. Always in one place, that Powerbooks store that's the closest to where I live, at ATC.
He still looks the same. Tall, dark, and... well, you know the rest. He was still himself, and I was the girl I was back then all over again, meeting him once more in the school mass when he sat next to me. (Our school tried to decrease talking during mass by having girls be seated next to boys from other sections. Not that it worked.) Back then, there was only silence between us. Now, there always will be.
It's stupid. It's infantile. But I can't help but feel sad about it.
He was my first real crush after all, the one I thought about in grade school while learning all the progressive tenses and memorizing all the bones in the skeletal system. He was the one you said you had a crush on during sleepovers, the one people tease you about whenever you recite in class.
He wasn't even my classmate then. (We were never classmates. Never could be, with his grades compared to mine.) We never really talked back then, except on the internet. (We talked about silly things too, like our mutual dislike of graduation ceremonies and his brief stint with politics.) I never even knew he existed as himself back then, only becoming aware of his presence when he sat next to me in the school mass one day in grade 6.
Baka. There was never anything between us, and there never will be. (We were never truly friends, after all. Close acquaintances, maybe, but never friends.) Never mind all the dreams there were of him, made up of all the things that went into Sweet Valley books. Never mind the teasing my classmates gave me whenever I defended him from his political detractors.
There was just me, him, and an insurmountable bridge between us. I was too smart for him, they said, and he was too popular for me to enter his world.
In the end, he never really knew me, did he?
It's silly, but when I saw him again that day in Powerbooks something broke in me when he didn't even know who I was anymore. (I looked at him, he looked at me, and he walked by. It was never like that before, but time goes by, I guess.)
Tell me I'm stupid, but I guess that's part of being a teenager. I guess this really is goodbye then to that life I lived before.
Let that door be shut now, and let it stay shut. That's what the new year is all about, anyway, forgetting all the bad stuff from before and moving on.
