There’s a fine line between really liking someone and
loving them…
at least that’s why my grandmother told me.
She told me she knew she crossed it when she started seeing
my grandfather whenever she tried to imagine what her future
might look like.
That left me wondering, when did I cross that line with you?
Maybe it was when I stupidly smiled at you when you told me
the necklace you always wear is a gift from your mom, not a
girlfriend.
Maybe it was when I stopped hating yellow as much as I did
after you told me your yellow hoodie was your
favorite.
Maybe it was when my lazy Fridays were no lazy no more
because it was the only day I got to see you at my
grandmother’s house.
Or maybe it was when I finally saw the beauty in the poems my mom hanged all over our bedroom walls.
Indeed grandmother, there’s a very thin lie between really
liking someone and loving them.
You were really fortuitous for having known when you crossed
it.
But for me, I definitely know there are more maybes yet to come.
There will always be something missing..
someone missing.
I will always feel that this isn’t whole or will ever be
again.
My feelings will never be the same anymore.. they will not have
the same radiance as before.
But I will learn to live with that, to cope with it..
because somewhere out there you’re living the way you
always longed to live.
Somewhere out there you’re finally the person you wished to
be.
You finally exiled who people thought you were, or wanted you to
be.
And that alone makes me filled with
happiness.