May 01.

We have ways of keeping up. Mine used to be peeking at this black box containing all your letters. Everytime I would go home I would look up involuntarily at my wall cabinet and from the glass panel, I would find it resting there, almost at peace. It has been what, so many years since it has been placed there; molds and whatnots invading its private space every once in a while. I had a bad habit of waiting for the box to be too dusty I’d start contemplating about throwing it out and finally stopping the habit.

I said once that I voluntarily look after the people I once cared for.
When you learned about it, you almost knew what I meant. Since you probably don’t like my original way of doing so, I stuck to checking up on the box to see if it’s still there. If it magically disappears one day, aba, dapat siguro tanggapin ko nang di mo na kailangan ng checking up. :p

But sometimes, I still wonder how you are. There’s nothing else to do apart from hoping you’re okay. I used to think up thousands of what ifs whenever there’s a high probability you’d be around–each of them giving me a small panic attack. I don’t know. I guess I’m not sure still what I’d do when I’d see you. There would be an impulse to hug, greet, and smile, but we both know it’s not exactly the best idea. Because of all the times we DID see each other, those casualities couldn’t even happen. And it’s sad, because I did recognize you. Despite the changes, the age, the years, I knew who you were. But you didn’t. Wait, you did. You recognized me, gave a vague nod, and went on like nothing. But maybe…it was still my fault. We never really left things good that the only great memory you have of me is probably the first times in the magazine racks–back when I haven’t hurt you yet.

2009. I just realized it’s been years since I last took a glimpse of
the black box. I stopped keeping up. It made sense. None of these do, really, but it will someday.

So there. Happy May 1.

Sent from my iPhone