He read Frank’s text message over and over.
“Joseph, please stop texting me ‘I love you’s. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”
“Joseph”. He can’t even remember the last time Frank called him by his first name. In the years that they were together, it had been “babsy” or “hubby”. When they broke up, it was “hey” or a tap on the shoulder. “Joseph” had always meant that something was wrong.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.”
An acknowledgment. Every word stabbed at his heart. He knew what this meant: he was no longer getting any more “last” chances. He had screwed up too many times.
“I just don’t want to be miserable anymore. I want to be happy.”
“You can be happy with me again. I’ve changed. I’ve grown up. Please give me another chance.”
He clutched his phone tight as he waited for a reply. Several minutes passed but there was nothing. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“It’s time to let go, Joseph,” he said aloud as he put his phone down. Frank was no longer the guy that he was before. Then again, neither of them was. The breakup wounded them both and left ugly scars. But it wasn’t until then that he saw just how much those scars hardened Frank. Frank was no longer the fragile boy that he used to be.
It was all my fault. Tears fell from his eyes as he remembered.
His phone rang. He looked at it for a while before picking it up.
“It’s too late. I belong to him now.”
It felt as if his scars were ripped open once again. Or maybe they weren’t scars yet, after all. Maybe his friends were right in saying that his wounds were still fresh and that he should let them heal first.
But when can you really say that your wound has healed, anyway?
Is it when it stops hurting?
Is it when the blood has dried and crusted over?
Do you have to wait until the crust falls off and exposes a thin layer of skin?
What about when a scar has formed, have you healed then?
He wiped his tears off and started typing. Halfway through the message, his eyes started to cloud with tears again.
“I hope things go well between you and your boyfriend. But if they don’t, I’ll be here. I hope you’ll consider giving me another chance.”
He had not even put the phone down yet when a reply came.
“Thanks.”
Don't you just despise regrets?
ReplyDeleteAh, but that is of a learning...
"Give me a another chance." - A line full of regrets, hopes, longing and promises.
ReplyDeletethat was me six years ago. hihi. amoy na amoy ko ang regrets!
ReplyDelete“It’s too late. I belong to him now.”
ReplyDelete-waah :( nkarelate ako dito.
New blog, new banner, new blogger account, but its still the same drama we have come to expect. I suppose one of the better improvements in this here internet space is that the blog title's no longer as self-deprecating as it used to be. Cheers to that!
ReplyDeleteNow, as far as the fiction goes, I would suggest that you submit to one of Jessica Zafra's LitWit challenges. You've the knack, a bounty of inspiration, and the choice of words with which to reinforce your ideas. I'm hazarding a wild assumption with that word, fiction. It's far too inspired. It could use some more detail, though, but it was a decent read.
Cheers, Nishiboy! Mabuhay Ka and Muahness from Pasig Citehh!