October 2nd, 2003

If only she was here, I think to myself. Lately that line has been constantly intruding in my thoughts. The warm breeze on my cheek, the scent of rain in the air, the stream of stars overhead that caters to the whims of wishers and dreamers on the ground such as myself.

Near the corner sits a bar I’ve never been into, with wooden chairs standing sturdily beside even sturdier-looking tables. The place was dark and yet strangely comforting, music straining vaguely from overhead speakers. I sat down with a book in hand, realizing that for the first time in such a long time, I actually felt alone.

I should have known this would not last. We both loved to talk about fairy tales and happy-ever-afters, but deep down, she never believed in them. Hard to believe but I was the hopeless romantic in our relationship. I was the one who believed in forever. For her, forever was a figment of the imagination. For her, relationships were built to last only for the present.

My beer arrived, cold to the touch. It was easy and painful to actually imagine that she was sitting beside me, laughing at my jokes and allowing me to push her hair back away from her eyes. It was too easy to imagine that she was still physically present in my life, loving me in the only way that I loved to be loved. Familiarity does not bring comfort right now. Familiarity stings hard.

There were crazy nights when I would hold her tight with all my might, scared to let go because I never know what tomorrow brings, and I would ask her to run away with me. I kept praying for the time she would say yes, but a part of me knew she never would. She would press her lips against my ear, whispering that she loved me, and I believed her. I only wonder why she could not love me enough to stay.

Second bottle of beer. Another reason to miss her.

She said I would find love again. Normally I would agree, after all, I was the one who always strayed, the one who always found reasons to leave. I was a lush for everything good in life. I can just go back to being the same, driving myself hard at work to earn big bucks to feed my expensive lifestyle. When kissing did not make my heart skip a beat, and sex was casual at its best. Go back to turning my back on my partner at night, sneaking out before the sun rises.

She wants me to forget the kisses we have shared, the softest kisses I have ever felt in my entire life. She wants me to leave behind the countless bottles of cigarettes and San Miguel Light over philosophical conversations and uncensored stories of each other’s pasts. She wants me to move on, away from the memories of lying down beside her, her body pressed against mine, my arms around her as I watch her sleep.

Third bottle of beer. One question in my head. How?

Tears threaten to pop from behind my eyes and I take a deep breath, thankful for the breaths of fresh air that ease the hurt momentarily. My fingers drum aimlessly on the surface of the wooden table, scraping at the scratches that stain its surface. I knew I was happy that the table was disfigured, that it was not perfect. Still, I could not for the life of me, figure out why.

She was not perfect, that I knew. However, she was perfect for me. For I filled in her flaws really well, and she fit into my flaws as though she was molded for me. There were moments when I would hold her hand tightly; fingers twined together, her head fitting perfectly at the space on my shoulder.

Fourth bottle of beer. I pay my bill and lean back on my chair, taking my time in finishing the last one. Staring at the golden liquid in the clear bottle, I actually smile. My eyes look towards the smoke drifting lazily from a long-forgotten cigarette. The smoke dances upwards, as though begging to play. I know it will get easier. It is only a matter of time.