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A Letter To Modern Romeo

"letters from a girl who wanted to move on but couldn't bring her self to."

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Dear Romeo,

Hey, let me get this straight. I know you would be skeptical if you will read this or not, it’s your choice. I am not going to force you.

I know, It took long for me to send this but I was weighing things out. If I’m going to share this or not. I wanted to clear things out basically from the things I’ve heard but it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t care much about it because even if I do, there's nothing much I can do about it but to accept the things that aren't meant for me.

I have been thinking about those question you've asked. The same question I dismissed because I was scared--because I was driven by the pride I believe is the only thing that's left of me.

To be honest, if it was for my sake, I wouldn’t bother myself with trying to explain the things I presumed to be insignificant in another individuals’ point of view. But then again you were not just some individual, you are a friend, at least, that’s what I thought but with that messaged I dropped on you. I don’t think you’d ever consider me one.

But I do not blame you because I realized now that if I was in your shoes and if we’d switch places, I’d probably be confused, bothered, and mad and be disappointed. Who wouldn’t? When you were suddenly bombarded with stuff and was left hanging with questions that obviously won’t be answered because you were told just to forget it--because I told you to forget it.

I thought in moving on, all you have to do is actually to tell that person what you feel, and everything would be gone. I mean, yes, a part of you would be alleviated from that feelings you suppressed but it would only be temporary, letting go of the emotions would never be absolute if you would just tell a person you’ll move on, simply stating it and telling him to forget about it—I realized that I didn’t really told you what I feel but what I told you was a vague word that says eleven months was enough and I should move on. I know, it was very unfair of me to just only think of myself without even considering how you will take it.

I know, and you clearly pointed out that you were bothered and very much eager to know why. Clearly, I was confused as to what why were you pertaining to. Was it ‘Why are you moving on’ or ‘Why do you love me?’ I couldn’t decipher which why are you talking to but instead of asking you what why are you trying to ask, I shut you down like you had completely no say on anything. But then, you do have the right to at least know.

I want you to know that I am trying to move on. I don’t want to cross the line, even if a part of me wants to. I want you to know that I am really clueless as to what this thing I’m feeling. I am clueless. I am confused. I am bothered. I am torn between choosing the right thing or choosing what I want to happen.

I don’t want to label it, but I know that this thing—whatever this is, this is not shallow. If it is, you know I could very much shrug this off, but it’s not. I had been keeping this, denying this because at first I really thought that it’s just me liking the fact that with you, I could have good conversations, that I just liked talking to you and this is my needy side wanting more of those conversations and that was basically it. But it was my rationale self-convincing myself that it was the conversations I want and not you but well I still don’t know. I’m still confused and curious as to what this is but this time I want to stop knowing it. I wanted to stop being more curious because I feel like it’s becoming unhealthy and that’s why I am moving on. I am moving on even before this thing would consume me, and I know that if it does, I would be left on my own to face it because I never really planned, at first, on telling you about this especially not when I know very well that you don’t feel the same way. So this had to stop, and I’m sorry for dragging you into this.

I am sorry because I bothered you in some way.

I am telling you all these because I felt like I am accountable for the rift that I made between us. I don’t like you being awkward around me or me, not knowing how to approach you. I mean, we belong to the same program, in the same classes, in the same group, and I don’t want us to be rather distant like there’s a bad blood between us. I don’t want to be someone who’ll ruin everything, but I guess I already did, and I am completely sorry for that., I mean..well, I don’t know. I know we are never close to begin with, but at least, I want us to be civil. To just, you know, as if this never really happened—that you never really know anything about this but I know that’s too much to ask. But then again, it would always be your choice, your decision.

I am sorry, and I am hoping that someday we could smile at each others faces, laugh this out like none of this happened. Someday. But even that feels too good to ask.

Trying to move on,


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