A dream no one would ever want to come true
|I had a dream last night. I thought I was alone. I woke up with tears. For what I saw in my dream, I never want to see in real life...
I dreamt I was in love. I was happy. I was in love with a man I've know since junior high school. A man I've always loved. A man I consistently loved until I had gone way beyond my adolescence.
We spent a lot of time together. We laughed together, we cried together. We had fights like it was the end of our relationship. But nevertheless, we never gave up. We were contented, satisfied, our hearts were filled with joy. We were happy we found each other.
Until the day came that our smiles vanished into the shadows of our embitterment. We were lost. Our days were brought by our misunderstandings. Curses and shouts brought up our fear of loneliness, of losing each other. But all hope had gone astray. Our hearts were filled with torment. We were cold, resentful. Love was replaced with anger, with hate. We thought of no other solution but to be separated. So we were.
Days had gone by so lonely, so quiet, yet peaceful. Yes our days were peaceful, but we couldn't find contentment. Our minds were bitter, but our hearts were missing each other. We wanted to be together once again. So we were. But this time, it was different.
We were just friends, for this time, there were no commitments. Even though we were just friends, we spent time together just like before. We had dates, we held hands, and we could still dress up together in one room. We were happy. Even though our lives were not one anymore, we still made love as if we were in our own world. So for me, we were still one.
For seven months we were apart for some job that was offered to him elsewhere. We barely kept in touch since we were both busy to do so. But when he got back, I knew we missed each other and were anxious to be together again. Or so I thought...
I woke up on a Saturday morning just like all the other mornings that had gone by. He was all that was in my mind. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and looked at the mirror with satisfaction. I knew I was not alone. As I walked my way out of the room, I smiled. I knew I was going to be with him that day again. So I hurried, but stopped at the sight of a white envelope that lay before the door of my apartment. I picked it up, tore it open, and saw a glossy, glittery, white, with a little shade of blue, paper inside. I read it silently and tears started falling down my cheeks. I was astonished. My heart was torn into pieces, as if the world turned against me. He was getting married, to a girl he loved dearly. And I was just a friend.
I wanted to go to him the moment I found out. But all the pain left me melting from where I was standing. I couldn't move as I held the letter in my hand, for all I could do was mourn and grieve in agony. I thought of all the memories I had with him. I was distressed. My love for him has deprived me to live. I stayed at home everyday weeping and begging God that he'd come back to me.
Days had gone by, and nothing. I haven't seen or talked to him for 2 months. I felt lonely, depressed. Until one night, the phone rang, and I answered. It was him, asking if we could be together again one last time. So we did, the night before his wedding.
I anxiously waited for him and opened the door quickly as he rang the doorbell. I didn't want to cry in front of him, because I knew he was happy, so I just kissed him on the cheeks and smiled. He brought albums of us together and the letters I gave him when we were still teenagers. He told me to keep it for him. I was trying so hard to prevent my tears from falling. I didn't want to let him know that despite his happiness, I was hurting. We sat down in the dinner table, I started eating, and he started talking. He told me stories of what he's been doing lately. He told me stories about his fiancé. I just kept on nodding my head as if I was listening. But all I had in my mind was pain, bitterness and confusion. Why couldn't I be with him? Looking at him, staring at his face, I wanted to kiss him, hug him, and never let go anymore. He started to wonder why I was so quiet. So I started talking. I told him stories of the things we've done together. The times we felt so silly, the things we laughed about together, and the times we both cried. I wanted him to reminisce, about us. I was selfish. I told him about our first kiss, the first time we held hands, and the first time we made love. Then he held my hand and he said, "I love you, and I always will..." I started to smile, I thought that was it, until he ended his sentence with, "...and you'll always be the best friend I had." There it was, friends. I knew I lost him completely. I didn't want to let go of his hand, but he had to leave. As I closed the door, lay in my bed, I wished that death would just take my pain away.
Morning came, but I didn't want to get up because I knew it was going to be the most tragic day of my life. I looked at the albums he brought last night. I started weeping silently again. Until I saw a note in the album that he gave me 5 years ago. It said in the note, "Don't ever give up, I love you." And that was exactly what I thought I should do. So I stood up, got dressed, and ran to the church where he was getting married. Oh I hoped I was going to make it before the wedding. But when I got there, I was too late. He was walking his way out already, with his new wife, and with big smiles on their faces. I stared at him. I couldn't smile. I thought he forgot about me already. So I decided to turn back and go home. I didn't want to go to the reception. But the second I did, he grabbed my arm, hugged me and whispered in my ear, "Thank you." And we let go. I walked my way home crying.
A year had gone by so lonely. I never really knew why he said thank you that last time we saw each other. He called me the other day telling me that he was already going to be a daddy, and when his son comes out, he told me he wanted me to be his son's godmother. I didn't accept. I still loved him the way I always have. But I didn't want him to be a part of my life anymore if I couldn't have him, it would just hurt. So since then, I never saw him again, and I never heard anything from him again.
I was already in my 40's, still single and still in love. I lived my days trying to help other people than simply mourning the depression of loneliness. I still missed him. Every day I would remember the times we spent together. The day I told him I loved him when we were still teenagers, I gave my heart to him completely. So ever since then I made a promise to myself that I would never love a man again, because my only love... was him.