Watermelon Kiss

You’re touchy-feely lately. Don’t even think I didn’t notice. You touched my shoulder and back—lightly, casually, mussed my hair, squeezed my arms, enthusiastically greeting me…

oh fuck I’m near crying now and it must be because of the sleepiness, exhaustion, melancholic music, haunting report to be done, and you.

I just. I don’t know, okay? I do feel happy. I do. It’s just I don’t know what it means to you and I’m scared that the whole thing turns out to be nothing after all.

Happy valentine, by the way. Hope you get whoever it is you’re eyeing right now.

Hope that

I have now, is that

Someday, in the future,

Someone who is meant

To be the one for me will come. And

I will

Love him,

Love him more than I ever

Felt for this man that I can never

Ever have. And he will be mine, for I will be his; and

Every day that I spend with him will be filled with 

Love, and we will

Share our laughs and tears together, while praying

That our love shall never end.

One day,

Once upon my life, I will find. The

Prince that then will be the king of

All my love.

I will

Now let go of this memories

Filled with love. And I will keep hoping and loving,

Until I meet him, the one I will always

Love.

To be his

Only woman; to

Bear his children.

Every day I will whisper to him,

Aishiteru yo—which means “I Love You”—and grow old, while

Recalling our sweet days together.

—

but for now,

this still feels too painful to bear.

I told everything to him.

How I loved him,

how I was ready to commit myself to be his.

He said nothing is going to change.

That I will only still be his supposed younger sister,

not more,

but maybe less.

So there it goes, my dreams.

My fleeting dreams.

Now I have to let go.

And a part of me died,

drowned in my silent tears.

To laugh away with you without any care in the world.

To share my tears with you.

To know you will be there to comfort me.

To take a walk with you, with my hand in yours.

To be the only one to know how you hold the woman you love.

To walk towards you on the aisle.

To vow to you my love, until death do us part.

To bear your children, and raise them together with you.

To be with them when they graduate, and when they eventually marry the one they love.

To grow old with you.

To be yours…

It’s only my fleeting dream,

and that is why it hurts so much.

If he’s really not for me…

Please stop giving me hope whenever I try to let go.

Please…

It hurts, so much.

I don’t want to lie to myself by wishing him best of luck with another woman.

No, I don’t want to lie anymore…

Putting on this mask is becoming more and more difficult for me.

I keep hoping he’s just bluffing, but he has no reason to.

For if he really has the same feelings as mine, he knows how I feel towards him, and he would be holding me in his arms before I know it.

But he isn’t doing that.

And maybe never will…

So please, God…

If he’s not mine…

Please, take away this hope from me.

Please…

—Your heartbroken daughter.

Screw it.

I am NOT going to pretend that I am The Ideal Housewife or The Really Womanly Woman just to get him to love me.

I want him to love me as I am. And if he can’t because I’m not his type OR WHATEVER, that’s it. I am okay with it.

I want to be a better person, I really do. But NOT this way! It’s the same as erasing my true self off the face of the planet!

Is that that damn hard for you to understand?!

is dead.

And meanwhile, I am desperately trying to hold back from adding a sliver of hope by saying,

“Presumably.”

(See? I did it again. I do that every damn time I get even the smallest sliver of hope, and all I get is pain. And more pain. When will I stop, I wonder?)

I miss your warmth.

I miss the rare two moments when you could put your arm around my shoulders nonchalantly—in public—and then pulled my body next to yours, with a smile on your face and surprise in my eyes.

But then, maybe you could do it because we were still really young, because we were only kids.

Now that you realize I’m on the way of becoming a woman, you distance yourself from me. Avoiding my touch, and sometimes, my presence.

Why?

When did it start to become like this?

Is it because of my confession?

Do you know that sometimes, I just want to sit next to you, quietly, enjoying your presence beside me?

But no, you don’t even give that precious chance to me, even with the fact that we can rarely see each other physically anymore.

Do you know how my heart aches every time it happens, and how I cried my loneliness out to my pillow every time I got home from a meeting where you were present?

Don’t you want that moments to be here again, the moments where we could just laugh and love each other like siblings—or maybe more?

Don’t you want that, too?

When you leaned towards me and your head touched my shoulder for the briefest of moment, I had to wonder if it was intentional.