Seven of the thirty-first of five; To the guy who found love with someone else

I’m glad we didn’t work out. Not because I think I deserve better, but because I think you do.

When I first found out about how much you’re in love, and not with me, I honestly didn’t know what I was feeling. It was a mix of everything. A rush of anger and bitterness, a blow of happiness albeit with so much envy. But on its tail, I found contentment. And I’ve never felt so happy about losing the chance to love someone so much, because I know mine would not be as full as what you truly deserve.

I’ve admitted that I would never be good enough for you. And I am not saying it for anyone, most of all you, to feel any pity over me. Nor am I saying it out of defeat. I am, in all ways, saying it as an embraced form of weakness or shortcoming that I may not be able to work on just yet.

I find it unfair, if I was ever given the chance to be yours, to have you doing all the great things and that I wont be there to cheer you on or congratulate you with a hug. More so if I wasn’t there when you’re at your lowest, just because I couldn’t go on my own to knock on your door and hold you until you fall asleep. Long text messages or a phone call will never be enough, and most of the time, that’s all I can offer.

As much as I would want to spend time with you, I know I’ll be too focused on my career that I’d only put you on my second or third priority. Or even forth. You deserve someone who, even if she has a lot on her first, will still put you there. I realized I might not be able to do that. I realized I wont be so sure at all.

I used to see us as a perfect fit. Understanding each other from blinks to speed of breathing. From songs to movies. From stares that have said so much more than our mouths ever did. The people around were so sure about us, except only for us. Because I think, that if we both were ever so sure, we would’ve taken the risk. We would’ve been together.

And then I used to think that maybe, fate will eventually turn things around, sooner or later. That time was the only thing keeping us apart. That maybe, it was all we needed. I had so much hope for years. No rush. I’ve got all the love I planned on giving you wholly, when time finally permits. When time finally makes us sure about each other.

Until I stopped believing on us, when finally, the right words were said, and had sunk so exact I actually thought I felt it slipping down my throat. There was love, but that was all. You couldn’t tell why, but it was the only way you could explain it. I didn’t get it back then, but I slowly did come to understand. Love was not enough. Love alone is not enough.

And the world continued spinning, and it was okay. Those years I’ve held on to something real yet so unsure on taking risks, was never considered a waste. It taught me so much about love, and about knowing, and choosing what is best, even if it means losing something you want for something that is right.

 There’s frankly a hint of amusement because I actually had a little doubt that I’d see you so in love and so romantic. And I may not know her, or what she does, or how she loves you. But I don’t find any reason for me to know about that. Because it shows that she does it so well, loving you.

And I finally saw that look on your face I’ve longed for.  And I am glad, it wasn’t because of me. Because it was real. And it was sure.


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