To Joaquin

I will confess here, I guess. As I will never do this in real life.

For almost three years, I liked you. At least, the 'You' I've characterized from all our interactions. If there's one thing I deeply regret, it's how awkward I got after we said our good-byes. I shouldn't have acted like an open book.

I know we will never be, and we could never be. If you reminded me of the moon, I remind you of dust or worse, probably shit. But I guess I shouldn't be too harsh as the last time I met you, you were civil. Thank you for waving 'hi' at me. I'm glad at least we are good acquaintances then, and I hope, from here on out as well.

Joaquin, I dreamed of being your girlfriend. I'm sorry. I really loved that dream. I like that at least, in my dreams, I was yours and you were mine exclusively. I've once wished that if reincarnation was real, I could be with you in another life. Would it kill myself, would it be pathetic, if I say there's still a part of me that yearns for such a possibility?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Joaquin.

I want to like someone else. I want to like someone else more intensely that I did with you. I want to stop trying to unearth these long gone feelings. I want to dream of someone else. I want to hope of someone else. I can't keep being hopeful that you'd be mine one day.

Joaquin, I hope you have a good life. I hope you get to love and be loved right. I hope we remain acquaintances forever. I don't want to be your friend anymore. I know it wouldn't just be a friendship for me with how I am right now.

I'm pathetic. Other people have gone and like/love another, why can't I seem to tear you apart from my thoughts? Why you, Joaquin? Why is it always you? Why do I romanticize you a lot? I don't think you're as flawless as my mind makes you seem. So, why do I keep on having you tuck on the corners of my mind? You don't even care about me. You probably don't even remember me anymore.

Joaquin, I liked you. You were my ideal. You were the moon, ever majestic and mysterious. That's all you are to me.