Three Days Ago (In poetic mode)

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I stole a glance and looked away.

I couldn’t watch.

I looked again and this time stared.

I froze.

You held her in your arms, not wanting to let her go.

Kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her.

She beamed at you, touched your face, your nose, your lips.

You kissed her fingertips and she smiled.

A tear rolled down my cheek

And I quickly wiped it away.

I couldn’t move—

I wanted to leave but I can’t.

You have always loved her—

And I have always waited.

Always waited.

Waited.

Hoped.

Wished that maybe some of that love would overflow for me.

Wished that you’d notice me.

Wished that each day it was more than just a glance, a smile that you give me.

Wished that I am the one in your arms, in your heart.

The one you dream of every night, the one you think of in your waking moments.

Wished I was the one.

But I am not.

I stole another glance.

You caught me.

You smiled and waved.

I waved back and turned.

I remembered this one song while Media Player is at random, the song “Three Days Ago” by Mario Winans. I have always loved its chorus: “Yesterday you said that we could get away/ day before I was alone like any other day/ three days ago I wrote this song for you/ will I ever get through/ to you.”

And I remembered someone.

I still can’t remember why I was crying last night. Maybe it was because of Bruce’s “This is what we have” line to Wendy (and when she opened her palm there was a pendant with the word “love” on it), or maybe it was because of the pain I saw in Wendy when Bruce finally left. It’s nice to see people fall in love, but it’s not nice seeing them go separate ways (not that Bruce won’t be coming back).

Or maybe because I felt the uncertainty, the fear when someone was leaving and you just don’t know why.

Yes, maybe I am still angry. Maybe I’m still bitter about it. About you and her. About everything. Why I was the one who has to say sorry when it was your fault all along—you were just too filled with pride, just like you always were, to admit you are at fault. I thought I had let go of all the anger I kept inside me for the past three years when I confessed to the priest about how angry I was at you, how much you’ve hurt me.

But some things just don’t go away.

It’s easy to forgive, but not forget.

I have always told my friends that it wasn’t the pain of finding out that it was she that you have loved all the while—it was the pain of the betrayal. The betrayal that you haven’t told me all along and you made me believe that I was the one you love. The betrayal that I was your best friend, and then I was the last one to find out about it. Your silly excuse? You thought I already knew.

Nice.

Or maybe I was just plainly stupid, don’t you think? Everyone is. Everyone is stupid when they fall in love, because every single shred of sanity flies out the window and you’re left with only your heart and the love you had to begin with.

Or maybe all I was looking for was the answers to all my questions—or maybe I don’t deserve any explanations.

The reason I haven’t trusted anyone for that matter after what happened, was because of you. I was scared to trust anyone because you betrayed me. You both betrayed me. And then what? Here I am, feeling happy for you guys. Maybe I’m really just a hard-on romantic that I couldn’t bear to turn away from you because I know that you really love her right now.

Yes. Do love her.

Love her at my own breaking heart’s expense.