I'm Ready Now

We both have problems. It's time I understand that it isn't just you. We both are problematic. And that is why our relationship has come to a stage like this. A stage of no turning back. I don't know if you know about the problems you bring into our relationship, but I was wrong for always thinking that all problems resided in you, were caused by you. In reality, I was as equally at fault as you are. Maybe even more.

We started out like this. I liked you. You caught my eyes more than a few times. I didn't think I'd act on it, my feelings. I thought you were just another pretty thing to me. It wasn't my first time admiring something beautiful from afar. I've done this before, and this time wasn't supposed to be any different. But it was.

I didn't know who you were. I mean yeah, I knew your name. I knew the subjects you were taking. I knew what you wore to class. I knew you wore glasses. Superficial information, I knew. But anything in depth, I didn't.  I didn't know you had an appetite of a kitten. I didn't know you had a strong sense of self-righteousness. I didn't know you're your dad's favorite. I didn't know you once stopped talking to your mom for a year over a fight(you said it was her fault). I didn't know how different you were from everybody else I knew or had known. I didn't know who you were.

I liked you before I got to know you. My feelings began way before my first words were delivered your way. My heart beat not when I first saw you, it started beating when you smiled. When I thought you smiled at me. You always said that you weren't smiling at me, that you just happened to smile at my general direction and I over-analyzed it. But that misinterpretation became the stepping stone for the both of us. My over-analysis brought us together. It's sad to say that my over-analysis also, tore us apart.

The first time we spoke, you weren't in a good mood. We had a class project, one which required us to be out of class and being photographed -two activities you weren't superbly fond of. Of course, you do love being out of class, granted that the class is actually taking place -just without you in it. You always shunned cameras held in the hands of others though. Even I, your boyfriend, had a hard time taking pictures of you, not because you weren't photogenic or because I was a bad photographer but because you wouldn't let me. You wouldn't let anyone take pictures of you. You were worried that you'd look bad in them, and God forbid that a shit photo of you were taken. I'm proud to announce that you eased up to it though, to me. I slowly but finally became the only person in your life who you'd allow pictures of you, both good and bad, to be taken. Anyways, back to the story. We had to be outside of class and we had to be photographed while doing that(stupid shit-ass assignment).

All 28 of us were crowded outside our university cafe. There was a nice garden scenery and we thought it'd be nice to have a photo of the class taken there. The weather was a sweat-stimulating one, too hot and too bright to be anywhere outside of an air-conditioned room. Everyone was pushed up against one another under the cafe shade in attempt to hide ourselves from the sunlight. Everyone but you. You, haha, you were out there, seated at one of the cafe's un-shaded tables with one of your elbows propped up against it, supporting the weight of your head while sunlight with the heat of an all-out Bunsen Burner shone down on you. You were at the edge of isolation, just where you wanted to be. Some of us were looking at you, staring at the girl who seemingly didn't have heat receptors because if the sweat formed under you shirt hadn't gotten on your nerves, the heat trapped in your cardigan probably would have. But it didn't. You stayed rooted at that cafe table, under the sunlight and out in that ridiculous heat.

My friends and I joked about how high your heat tolerance must be. My mind kept twisting, trying to find more reasons to talk about you to my friends because I didn't have the courage yet, to go up and talk to you myself. Then, snap. I knew I had to do it. I knew because the weather was being horrible and that you were completely alone, looking like you were about to doze off under the hot sun and under your many layers of clothing that were probably drenched in sweat that I had to talk to you. That this was a great opportunity to talk to you. Because I could talk about the weather to you. About how it was so hot and like, aren't you hot, why don't we go inside and we can find a nice, cool spot for us to continue our chat at. So, off I went.

I think it happened like this. Actually, I'm sure it happened like this.
Me: Hey, aren't you hot? (since you can barely open your eyes because it was so goddamn bright)
You: *looks at me* *looks away*
Me: It's really hot out here, no?
You: *looks at me again* no *looks away again*
Me: Really? You're not hot?
You: I'm not hot (you said this without looking at me)
Me: You don't wanna go inside?
You: No.
Me: You sure?
You: *sighs* *grunts* *looks annoyed and borderline pissed*
Me: *scampers away at the speed of light*

So, you didn't want to talk. I got the memo and ran. I literally ran. I'm not sure where I went but it wasn't back to my friends because the next time I came outs again, I saw you sitting at the same place you were at, with one of my friends towering over you. I didn't know what the hell she was thinking but the next thing I know, she was back here with me. And then suddenly, she had one of the class cameras in her hand and she was busy taking pictures of you, right next to me. I must have looked dazed, confused, probably even angry because why the fuck are you taking pictures of my crush? I think I asked my friend about what went down between you and her but she just laughed, "she(you) says she's not hot." I stopped asking more because I didn't want to sound like I wanted to know more and to give away how fucking pissed I was. I then proceeded to snap my own photos of her with the other class camera because why the fuck not. I thought my photos of her were tons better than the ones my friends took. Bitch.

We moved to the library, our next photo-shoot location and that was where my friend further pissed me off. That bitch must have seen me attempt to start a conversation with you at one the reading tables(didn't work out) because the next thing I know, again, she was right fucking there. Seated opposite you, with a big book of whatever-the-fuck-that-was opened up in front of her while her lips moved quickly, saying who-the-fuck-knows-what to you. And you responded. You said some things to her in reply to her conversation starter. And that ticked me off because when I tried it with you, no response whatsoever was given. It was like you couldn't even be bothered with me. I was offended. I was hugely offended because you! were! my! crush! but! I! wasn't! the! one! you! talked! to!!! Instead, it was this bitch I called my friend who got through to you.

It was days later when I was told by my bitch of a friend that she had started texting you, and that you were replying her. She told me that our class assignment day(Saturday, I remembered), wasn't a good day for you and you had told my friend off at the library when she was trying so annoyingly hard to get your attention and to talk to you. She said you sort of scolded her and told her that she was annoying you. I laughed at that because ha, desperate much, bitch? But my joy was cut short when I was told that it was because of that incident, that you guys had started chatting through texts. Apparently, you felt bad for what you did to my friend, so you asked someone for her number and texted her to apologize for your actions. I remember being torn about that because you did somewhat the same thing to me too, but only texted her. It meant only she had left an impression on you, not me.

After all that, I kind of just let go. After all, it was still just a crush. It didn't get far enough to have that strong of a hold on me just yet. So, I decided to turn a blind eye and let things happen the way it should happen. I'm not sure what happened between the time when I decided to let go and our first individual presentation for one of our classes, but after seeing your presentation in class and how scared, nervous you were for it, I couldn't help but scratch that itch I had been feeling. I asked my friend for your number and texted you the night of your presentation. I congratulated you on your performance and tried to hold a conversation with you. You didn't sound like you were into talking to me but I pursued until I couldn't. The next few days were like that too. I'd text you and you'd give me short, brushing-you-off-ish replies.It was very demotivating but somehow, I managed to continue my pursuits. Surprisingly, you got better. Yeah, you got better at texting me and I didn't feel as bad as before. Long story short, you chose me. In the end, you picked me over your long line of admirers. It wasn't without a crapload of obstacles and hardships but we pulled through.

The first few months we were together, it was pure joy. It was the kind of happiness that's innocent, exciting and nervous. However, fights broke out sooner than I thought they would. I wished they hadn't. We would fight, make up, fight again and make up again. Weird enough, as the arguments grew more heated, so would we. Passion sparked between the two of us like never before and I could never not want to touch you. I could never not want to be near you. I had to be near you. Always.

Things got complicated when your ex came into the picture. That was when our break-ups started to happen. It turned from fights-makeups to breakups-makeups. And then, things between you and my best friends turned sour over something dramatic-me did. Everything was downhill from then on.

The worst parts of us revealed themselves and they clawed at each other. They clawed till both of us bled, till both of us couldn't take it anymore. Of course, we always got back together in the end. We learned to take hits. We learned to stay together while always secretly blaming each other when arguments occurred. We learned to survive the lies. We learned to live with chaos.

I need to be blamed for most of our arguments because although you may be in the wrong when the arguments first started, there were so many ways, better ways, I could've handled the situation. I always blamed you for making big things out of nothings. Little did I know, I was doing the same. If I could've just, stoped being me for two minutes, collisions could've been avoided. We might have had an actual chance in working things out instead of just letting shit hit the fan and then putting the fan back up again, uncleaned, waiting for it to be hit by shit again. If I could just hold back a little bit more, if I could just stay cool for a little longer, maybe we wouldn't have been to the places we were at.

I always blamed you. Whenever we had a fight, I'd always blame you. Without fail. My first instinct would be to blame you. I'd yell at you, I'd abuse you with words to let you know how much you were being blamed for our downfall. And you'd yell back, telling me that I was the one to blame and that I had to learn to take my own hits and own up to them. I never sincerely admitted that it was my fault. I mean, whenever I had to admit that I was to blame when we were making up, although yes, I was sincere about being sorry and how it was my fault, it was never without a hinge of anger and dissatisfaction. Anger because I felt like I was always being blamed for something that was clearly your fault. Dissatisfaction because why was I the only one being blamed? What about your mistakes? Why don't you ever see your actions as mistakes?

But now, I know. I know that it's not about blaming you or me or anyone else when things go wrong. It's about understanding and accepting that you are blamed not because they did no wrong, but because you did wrong at one point. They might have been wrong too, but the moral of the story is don't blame others before blaming yourself. Take a good look at what you did and what you could've done to avoid this from happening. Everybody's brain works differently. All of us see things, do things, speak of things differently. What is 3 for me doesn't mean it's 3 for someone else.

A spiteful and sarcastic question asked out of anger to me, could've just been an innocent question asked out of confusion to you. I've been blaming you when I should've been blaming myself all along. And I've been crying for all the wrong reasons and for all the wrong things all along.

I know that now. It took me a year and four months to understand this. It took me two days of silence from you for me to finally figure this out. It took a potential actual break up for me to know how wrong I have been since the beginning of us. It took potentially losing you to finally learn to see myself for my mistakes. Potentially because I am still unsure whether we will get back together after this. What's new is that you've never gone this long without contacting me before, you've never once responded after I texted and called you, and you've never changed your WhatsApp profile picture whenever we fought before.

If it really is over between us, I hope you will understand how sorry I am for screwing things up and for not being able to change to be better like I so greatly promised you. If you do leave, I can only say that I'm glad you're leaving someone as shitty and damaged as I am behind. I love you but I am not healthy for you and I will not force you into something so dark anymore. And I do not think I should be involved with anyone after this.

I've never really talked about our beginnings and how I felt about you here. I was never ready before. I'm not completely sure why I wasn't but now, I think I finally am.

I'm ready to talk about you now.