We meet again.
I wouldn’t know if you will be able to come across this entry—this entry that will be drowned with all other entries in the digital world. I just want you to know that I am making this letter to tell you things I should’ve said on Friday night.
You said you couldn’t sleep so you called me up at 10 in the evening. You said to meet you at the outskirts of the residence. You asked if I drink.
“No,” I answered.
I just want you to know that I was hesitant to leave late in the evening. But a part of me wanted to see you. Again, my heart was beating so fast it hurt.
Friends wished me luck.
It was a cold evening. I called my friend to keep me company while I was walking towards you. I have zero idea what to say or ask the moment I’d see your face. I kept reminding myself to just be myself. But what if you wouldn’t like my real self? What if being myself wouldn’t work out? What if it would be awkward? These questions lingered in my head as I exited the gates.
To be honest, I pretended not to notice the one and only car with hazard lights on. I pretended it weren’t you. I pretended not to open the door. I hesitated—again. I wanted to turn my back away from you. (Yes. It’s foolish)
“How are you?” That was the very first thing you asked. I was shy so I kept on staring at your dashboard while I speak. I just want you to know that I wanted to act natural. I wanted to feel comfortable on that seat. I wouldn’t know how you feel but we glanced at each other when one of us was not looking. I noticed how your voice changed. It’s still calm and quiet, though.
You parked outside the mall. It was like a scene in a movie. We munched on your favourite snack. (Guess what? Mine, too). We talked about ourselves. I’m sorry there were bunch of complete silences. It was not an interview contrary to what I was doing when we first met. I just wished the words I said that night will be replaced by these:
“I want to watch a basketball game with you.”
“Let’s go see a movie next weekend.”
“I am really happy to meet you again.”
I just want you to know that my silence is the loudest voice you can ever hear. I just want you to know that my silence means “Go on, I am listening” or “I understand you.”
I want to end this with a happy note. So I’ll say thank you. You showed me the kind of person I wanted to be: mature, independent, smart and God-fearing.
Thank you. My wish to meet you again came true.
I was enchanted to meet you again.
About the Contributor:
Bianca Dakis is a teen at heart with an introvert-extrovert personality. She writes copies and works on skin care brands for a living. The idea to travel in Europe and take ootd shots sounds cool to her as of the moment. She blogs at Dear Readers.
[Photo credit: South China Morning Post]