I figured it out.

I figured it out.
That I shouldn’t have asked or
looked for signs
as sometimes we’re not really
meant to see them
so we could feel we earned it
instead of relying on serendipity.

I figured it out.
That promises are
meant to be kept sacred
and not forgotten like
that little dark secret you keep.
Promises are not just little white lies
you throw around to save you.

I figured it out.
That those three words–
I am sorry, I miss you, I forgive you, I love you–
are meant to be said aloud
because we need to hear it.
Because things are subject to different interpretations
and yours is always different from mine.

So I scream and shout
and yell and chase you
to tell you these things.
Coz I figured it out
why we didn’t work out
but you’ve figured it out
that it wasn’t worth it anymore.

Also posted at my Wattpad: http://www.wattpad.com/30869006-i-figured-it-out

Advertisements

Little Things #61

Oh dear.

The minute H and I stepped out of the boys’ hotel two days after their Staples concert, it was chaos. He held my hand tightly, his fingers gripping mine because I knew he could feel that I wanted to go back inside the hotel. I exhaled loudly, the crowd closing in, the cameras flashing and clicking with every step that we take.

It was two days after his ‘announcement,’ two days after people had started researching me. Two days of wanting to put my world on a constant mute because of all the noise that came with that announcement.

“We can’t hide forever. Besides, they already know who you are,” I remember H telling me when he asked me if I wanted to go out. It was his day off, after all. The other boys are planning to head to the beach, while H has other plans.

He wanted to go shopping.

“We have stores back home, H!” I remembered arguing, but he said something about the stuff being far cheaper here than back home.

“You are killing me. Virtually and literally,” I whined when he was pulling me out of the hotel room. The number of death threats that I have received since two days ago were countless. I think someone wishes me dead every three seconds. That’s roughly 57,600 death threats in two days.

H cupped my face in his hands, pressing his lips on my forehead. “I am with you. You’re my girlfriend. And we should have done this a long time ago already. So no, you are not getting out of this. We are going to have this first ever public appearance ever as a couple.”

I shook my head, bumping my nose against his. “Honestly, I don’t think we could have survived this long if we went public earlier,” I said softly.

“I think you’re right, but I’m getting tired of hiding. I’m tired of lying to people and saying I’m single when I’m not. When I am proud of you. When I just want to tell the world that you’re my girlfriend and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

That was what made me do it, you know? That despite my flaws and shortcomings, he loved me—wholly and fully—and he’s proud of me.

That’s H for you. That’s Hayden Edward Smith: seeing the best in people every single time. Silver linings through the dark clouds kind of guy. Half-full, not half-empty.

“Okay,” I finally agreed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

And we’re here, out in the open, where the phones were whipped out and cameras were clicking. The paparazzi stationed outside the hotel ever since the boys came here bit the bait and are following us, along with a bevy of fangirls. They formed a circle around us, and as we moved, the circle traveled with us, and I struggled to breathe.

I gripped H’s hand tightly, and we finally turned at the corner where the rows and rows of shops were. It took a couple of minutes before R and a couple of H’s security team managed to clear the people around us, and I finally breathed.

H placed his arm over my shoulder, and he dipped his head low, his face mere centimeters away from mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, and I saw the first of the three shops that H wanted to go to. It felt like a light at the end of the tunnel, a welcome sight. But he pulled me into another store, and I was going to protest when I realized where we were.

“Of course. A bookstore,” I said, looking up at him in amusement.

“You looked terrified for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if you’re going to survive this. So… bookstore first.”

He pulled me behind one of the bookshelves, his hands wrapped around my waist. I looked up at him and smiled, and I thought he was going to lean down for a kiss but instead he reached out behind me, showing me a copy of Daniel Handler’s Why We Broke Up. “I don’t want you writing a version of this for us, alright?” he said, and I grinned, nodding. He kissed me on the forehead, and then twirled me around, and then playfully pushed me towards the aisle of young adult fiction—or new adult fiction, call it whatever you want.

I started scanning the shelves, with H just behind me, our hands locked together. He waited patiently as I grabbed one book after the other, reading the back covers and the endings (yeah, I like getting spoiled like that). I didn’t know how long we were there in the bookstore, but as soon as I looked up, swarms of fans are looking through the window, watching us, like we were dogs through petshop window or specimens under a microscope.

And then that’s when I realized how much H knows me.

And that I didn’t care anymore about those people out there—at least not as much as I did when we left the hotel a few minutes earlier.

“I love you,” I said as I twirled around and pulled him towards the end of the bookstore, behind one of the shelves. I pinned him against one of the bookshelves, and he chuckled. I planted a big one on him, and his grin was as wide as ever.

“Now, let’s go. You have some shopping to do.”

I pushed back the left sleeve of my blouse, exposing my tattoo, and then took his right arm, our tattoos linking together. He nodded, as if in approval of this, and we headed out of the bookstore and straight into the pit of fangirls and paparazzi.

But I didn’t care.

Because I proud of the man I am holding hands with right now, and I am proud to be called his woman.

Little Things #57

Call me, as soon as you can.

I just got out of a hellish meeting and as soon as I booted my phone, a bunch of texts from CF came in. Her text made me panic almost immediately, and I pressed 4 on my speed dial. She picked up even before the phone starts ringing (at least on my end), and then plowed through it before I could greet her.

“It’s H. He’s in the hospital.”

It was a very grueling and panicky eight-hour flight just to get to where H was. Counting the hours to get home to grab stuff and my passport, plus the drive to the airport, the immigration and other security circles of hell, I was at H’s bedside twelve hours post-CF’s call.

I have not slept a wink since that phone call, rounding up my awake hours total to 20.

H was sleeping when I got there, looking very peaceful albeit pale. An IV was hooked into his wrist, just above our first couple tattoo. The light drip, drip of his IV and the low hum of the AC were in a weird duet, and my heartbeat seemed to go in synch with them, its lub dub lub following the drip, drip and the hummmm. There were a bunch of handmade cards on the bedside table, a basket of fruits on the table at the foot of the bed, and H’s things strewn on what should have been the bed for the patient’s guest.

CF’s husband, TT, was at H’s bedside, asleep on the chair. CF, the crew, and the other boys must have moved on to the next gig, leaving TT with H just so he wasn’t alone. Totally understandable. While they’re all friends, it was, after all, still first and foremost a job. And secondly, the tens of thousands of fans that are waiting for them at their next destination will be pretty difficult to disappoint if they weren’t there.

I gently shook TT’s shoulder, and he woke up very slowly, wiping the sleep off his eyes. He stood up, letting me throw my things on the chair he vacated before giving me a very big hug. He pulled me away, closer to the door, just so we wouldn’t wake H up.

“What happened?” I asked him, and TT crossed his hands over his chest.

“They were in the middle of singing Live in the Moment when he stopped and just went to the side of the stage. We thought he was just going to ask for his inhaler, but he just started throwing up. He turned into an uncomfortable shade of green, and R just got to him when he fainted,” he narrated, and I absorbed this. I’m pretty sure somewhere online there’d be a video of it, but it’s not something I’d want to see.

TT turned into a graver kind of serious, and continued, “Doc said he’s overfatigued. He’s running a high fever and they’re testing if he’s got an infection or something.”

“So he should rest.”

TT nodded. “For a week, tops.”

I winced. “That kills. I’m already feeling for the fans in the shows that he’ll miss,” I whispered, and TT’s eyes narrowed as he smiled. “You and H said the same thing after he heard what the doc said.”

“Well, fans are important to him,” I said, shrugging. It wasn’t that I didn’t care that H was overfatigued or that he’s sick, but I do know that even before he hit the stage last night, he already wasn’t feeling well. He probably had kept it from everyone just so he could get up that stage and perform in front of the fans that have supported them all throughout. He’s that kind of guy, and I love that and hate that in him.

He says I’m like that too, when it comes to my work. (I’ll disagree, but I do know he’s 95% right.)

TT and I both turned to look at the bed when we thought we saw H move. I walked over to him just as he stirred awake, and his eyelids opened in a flutter.

His eyes stared first to the ceiling, and then they drifted to me. His lips formed into a smile and then he reached up, gathering me in his weak arms. I buried my face in that nook between his shoulder and neck. “Oh H…” I whispered, and he moaned as he held me tighter against him. We haven’t seen each other for about a month—I was buried in my work (which I will be buried in again when I go back, for sure) and then his never-ending tour.

“I missed you,” I heard him whisper, taking me in, sniffing my still unwashed hair, making me back off.

“I haven’t taken a shower yet!” I said, and he laughed weakly.

“You and me both.”

I sat on the bed and he laid his hand on my hip. “You, mister, shouldn’t have gone up that stage if you weren’t feeling well already,” I said, my anger just boiling below the surface. He just nodded, knowing he was wrong in that aspect. He mumbled a sorry, and then lifted his head to address TT.

“You heading to Chula Vista?”

TT nodded, walking over to the bed and grabbing a backpack from all of the things strewn there. “I think the boys will be back after the show to see you—”

“No. Let them get their rest. Tell ‘em K’s here already so there’s no need to worry about me.”

TT just sighed, and then gave H a salute. He passed by me, giving me a cheek-to-cheek, and then was out the door.

“So we have a week in LA. What do you want to do, luv?” H said after a while. I grabbed the remote from the stand and turned the TV on, searching for something to watch. H whispered to me that TLC was on this channel something, and I pressed the numbers. As if on cue, Cake Boss was on TV, and I snuggled closer to H.

“Well, you and I are going to rest. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

He nodded, letting out a “hmmm…” and giving me a kiss on the temple. We watched in silence for a few minutes, until H broke it.

“Luv, I think you need to get that shower.”

I jokingly pushed him, my laugh a bit louder than his weak one, and then hopped off the bed. “I am not going to complain that you smell, hun, but you do already. Too bad you can’t take a shower. A warm, bubbly shower with me.”

I started to unbutton my blouse, one by one, exposing my lacy bra underneath. His eyes widened, the fire igniting in them. He winked at me, his grin mischievous. “Oh luv, I’d take a sponge bath. From you.”

I gave him a wide smile, my eyes matching the intensity in his. “Consider it done.” I turned to sashay my way to the bathroom, H slapping my butt before I could take a step, and I heard his laugh reverberate around the room.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he called out as I entered the bathroom, and I just grinned.

He’s gonna be fine. I know he’s going to be.

Little Things #53

I woke up to a cold bed, H already miles away from me. His mom had picked him up an hour ago to take him to the airport—I had work today so I couldn’t. I ran my hand across his side of the bed, cool to touch, and then reached for his pillow.

Wait.

There was something under his pillow, and when I retrieved it, three sheets of paper, rough because of the ridges that H’s handwriting made. I knew it was for me, and a part of me got nervous, wondering if this letter was in any way related to the notes I’ve found in the house in the woods.

I grabbed my glasses from the nightstand and put them on. I took three deep breaths before unfolding the letter, and then started to read.

LT-53-1

LT-53-2

LT-53-3

My face wasn’t dry after reading that (I mean, would yours be?). I was smiling too, and then even if I hadn’t prayed in a long while, I uttered a prayer, thanking the heavens that I found this man.

I re-folded the letter, and then took a picture of it. I messaged him, attaching the letter: “YOU ARE THE BEST. I LOVE YOU.”

And then I tweeted him: I am the luckiest woman in the planet because I have you, @H_____S____. Always, K. #morethanthis

I knew that wasn’t enough, and I raked my mind, trying to think of how to give back.

Little Things #51

See you when I get back. Happy new year, K. Have fun at CF’s.

I sighed heavily, tossing my phone on the bed. I’m heading over to CF’s for her New Year’s Eve dinner. CF, the band’s stylist, was the first of H’s friends I’ve ever met, mainly because H dotes on CF’s daughter, Lil. And she’s a really, really adorable kid, so much so that there are days that H and I would head on over to CF’s house just to play with Lil.

CF and her family were adopting me for this holiday celebration while H is gone.

He’s in New York City, off to see the ball drop at the Times Square for the New Year. 2011. We’ve known each other for two months, still trying to feel our way through it. The awkward getting to know you stage that I hate.

Yes, we’re not celebrating our first New Year together.

And to top it off, there is an ex that keeps getting in the way.

Hey, don’t look at me—my ex is far, far away. His, on the other hand, while far away, couldn’t seem to let go.

And I think she has a semi-valid reason to hang on if the man hasn’t really completely let go of her either.

Don’t get me wrong—I would probably like her had she had not been H’s ex. She seemed like this really, really sweet girl, who is most likely misunderstood by everyone else because she’s projected as a lady who has dated half of Hollywood—and beyond—before she was even 25. (She’s 24, and as of the last count, she’s dated 20 guys… including H). We’d probably be friends if we met—and most likely we will meet in the future, should H and I be together for a long time.

But there is another side to the proverbial coin that is the ex. She writes songs about her previous relationships, with little to no care at all if the public would know who the song is about. I must admit that I had enjoyed listening to her songs before, including the experience of trying to figure out who the songs are about, but this is different.

When H is involved, it’s different.

So yes, when she and H broke up, everybody knew why. Everybody knew what they did when they were together—and even when they’re not. Everybody knew what they fought about, and every single little thing about their relationship (e.g., how H would hug her from behind or how he blows kisses at her just before he leaves, how they both favor blueberry pancakes and how H likes his with tons of whipped cream, etc.). If I am correct with my guesses, out of the fifteen songs in her fourth (post-breakup) album, twelve were about H.

They were too private, too secret memories that she had shared to the world. I told H one time that I felt a bit betrayed for him when she released those songs, but H had shrugged me off.

“I wrote about her too, you know,” he said, and I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure, but your songs about her are as vague as they can get. It could be just about any other girl. Hers? She had stamped your name all over those songs.”

He told me it wasn’t an issue, so I shouldn’t be bothered about it.

She called a couple of days ago, when H and I were at his place, preparing dinner. H had to leave the room but I could still hear his half of the conversation.

I dunno. It’s a bit of a short notice… Yeah, but— Okay. I will see what I can do. Thanks for the invite, S…. Yeah, maybe. Will let you know…. Take care too.

When he got back to the room, he told me that S had invited him to head to the New York City, for the annual New Year’s Eve party at Times Square. She was performing, and she’s wondering if he’s interested to fly over and celebrate New Year there.

Just like old times, huh. Last year they were there, in a liplock at the center of Times Square, most likely hoping that they’d end the year right if they start it together. Four months later, they broke up.

“Well, we still have no plans,” H rationalized. I knew at that moment that he had already considered it and made a decision prior to even discussing it with me, so I didn’t even bother bring up that CF had invited us for New Year’s Eve just yesterday.

“Okay,” I merely said, making sure that disappointment was evident in my voice that he could actually feel it. He walked over to me, cheese in one hand. He reached over and touched my hand, and I gave him a sad smile.

“Why do you want to see her, H?” I asked, my voice still able to manage the pain. We are still happy, aren’t we? I added in my head.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, and then I just sighed in response, pulling my hand away from his and started off to drain the pasta. He did a sigh of his own before heading towards the range for the sauce.

I am pretty sure that on any other day the pasta was delicious, but it was tasteless to me on that night.

 —

I was about to leave for CF’s house when my phone started to ring, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pick it up because it was H on the other line. I did a quick mental count and I know that it’s close to midnight in New York already, as there was five hours difference between here and there.

“What, can’t find S to kiss when the ball drops?” I asked loudly, still not picking up. I ignored the call, seeing that H didn’t leave any voicemail, and then locked the door of my place. After a few minutes, I get a text from him, saying, “Hey. Text me when I can call?”

Again, I ignored it, not wanting any contact with H just yet.

I was already hopping into a cab when I get a call again from him, and when I ignored it, I got another. He didn’t stop until I picked up. “Yeah,” I greeted, albeit a bit cold. I could barely hear H with all the noise going on behind him—the performances on stage, the noisy crowd.

Thank God, you finally picked up—”

I had to pull the phone away from my ear a few centimeters as he was shouting. “Please stop shouting because I’m already regretting I picked it up,” I answered loudly, and then I heard him cover the mouthpiece of his phone, and then I heard a bunch of “excuse me” and “coming through” from him, and then a number of people squealing and calling his name.

When he came back on the line after a couple of minutes, the sound was a bit muted, like he went into a building or something.

“Sorry for that. It’s crazy out here,” H said, breathless. I heard him utter an ‘oops, sorry,’ before it felt like he wasn’t on the move anymore.

“I can hear that.” I was calm this time, surveying the streets and seeing people with their loved ones and friends heading off to various parties and dinners.

I heard him exhale slowly, and I stayed quiet. He called, so he should be the one doing the talking. A few seconds ticked by and then he whispered, “Where are you?”

“On my way to CF’s.”

“I wish I’m there with you.”

I smirked, and then said, “What, not enjoying NYC?”

He chuckled a bit, and then he said when he stopped, “I can see your smirk from here.”

I rolled my eyes and he plowed on. “I think I might have made a mistake of heading here. I should be there with you.”

“May I ask how you got to this realization?”

H cleared his throat, and I checked my watch, seeing that we’re thirty seconds away from New Year in his time zone. “It just felt like something is missing. You are missing. I look around and I see people together and all I could think about was you and you’re there and I’m not there with you.”

“I can see and feel that.”

“I’m—”

“Shh!” I cut him off, and seeing the time down to fifteen seconds. I think he heard it too—as I heard the crowd starting the countdown behind him.

“Eight…” I started, my voice trailing, and H picked up on it. “Seven.”

“Six.”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

H sighed before saying it. “One.” We both took deep breaths, and then said the three words at the same time, “Happy New Year.”

The crowd behind him cheered, and I smiled. I could imagine the atmosphere there, and I could imagine H, inside a building away from the festivities, talking to me. The fireworks started to boom behind him.

“You should be there, outside, enjoying the fireworks, H.”

“Nah.”

I smiled, and even though he was far away, I could feel that he smiled too. We stayed on the line, waiting for the fireworks to finish, the silence between us comforting.

“I’m taking the first flight home.”

The cab slowed down to a stop in front of CF’s home, and I paid the driver before scuffling out of the taxi. “Hold on,” I told him. CF opened the door, with Lil bopping happily at her hip, and I covered the mouthpiece.

“H is on the line. Can we gather—”

CF didn’t even let me finish as she was already calling out instructions to everyone at the party. And then I held the phone up, and after a quick count of three, everybody shouted, “HAPPY NEW YEAR, H! WOOHOO!”

I went back on the line just in time to hear H chuckling. “Hurry back. Be safe. Will wait for you,” I told him. “Take care.”

“Have fun at the party,” H said, and then he ended the call. I turned to CF, and she winked at me. “He took an expensive way to realize he doesn’t like S anymore,” she said, and I took Lil from her, grinning from ear to ear.

Life is a rollercoaster, just gotta ride it: Year-Ender Part 2

Like I said in the part 1 of my year-ender, 2012 was a rollercoaster ride for me. My favorite moments and lessons / realizations learned and had are what made it a crazy ride.

I’ll do this list in the best way I know how: in song lyrics, titles, or book quotes. Ready? Let’s dig into my 2012 “recap” of sorts, in which—if you personally know me—you try to figure out which 2012 events do I pertain to:

  1. More than This (One Direction) >> If I ever get a tattoo (which I really plan to do in 2013, let’s see if I have the guts to push through with it), one of my options would be these three words. I think if anything, 2012 taught me to be more than THIS, with ‘this’ being a number of things, to wit: insecurities, problems, issues. Plow through the problems and challenges. Face them head on. Do things that you don’t like because you’re probably still going to end up doing it in the future anyway (haha). Be more than your fears because you’ll never know when there could be an adventure. Be more than your insecurities because you have to start loving yourself more. Be more than your pride, because sometimes you also have to be humble and learn from your mistakes. Be more than your paranoia because worrying just kills the fun of things. Be more than all things negative, take them and twist it to make it positive. Be more than THIS.
  2. Live While We’re Young + Don’t overthink, just let it go (One Direction) >> I think in 2012 I did this less: live. But I made do with how I lived: bought and read a lot of books, watched tons of movies (I wish there are loyalty cards to cinemas too), watched concerts (David Cook and Maroon 5—jeez, they’re all I could remember), thoroughly got mesmerized by The Phantom of the Opera, and became a kid again by enjoying Disney on Ice: Princesses and Heroes. I fangirled like hell, with standout portions in my year when I did it on the Philippine Volcanoes. I met new friends. In 2013, I promise to live more (I didn’t just quote a brand’s tagline, did I?). Travel more (Ilocos and Batanes, I’m going to see you soon). Meet new people. LIVE.
  3. You spend your whole life stuck in a labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.” –John Green, Looking for Alaska >> I will leave this realization be, because I think the quote pretty much explains it.
  4. “We accept the love we think we deserve.” –Stephen Chbosky, Perks of Being a Wallflower >> All-encompassing, really. It applies to my “love life,” to whatever I was referring to in #3 and to dealing with “difficult” people. If you can get out of a bad “relationship,” then do so. If you can’t, then suck it in. Stop gloating. We all have options—we just need to see them, and we just need to take that leap of faith. In terms of the difficult people part—well, same thing: if you can’t get out of it, suck it in. Be more than them and use them to sharpen your personality instead.
  5. “She has been hanging on to the hope of him for so long that she doesn’t realize there isn’t anything left to hope for.” –David Levithan, Every Day >> Well, I finally woke up. I was done hoping and pining for you, because—stemming from #4—whatever love you are offering is not what I deserve. I deserve better than you.
  6. “The world is not a wish-granting factory.” –John Green, The Fault in Our Stars >> I wanted to be published, and I am still not doing enough to get there. The world doesn’t grant wishes; we have to work hard for what we want.
  7.  [I can’t find a quote, a lyric, or a song title for this one, so I’m just going to flat out say it here.] UNEXPECTED THINGS. >> These are the best in the world. If 2012 was a rollercoaster ride, I’d say that December 2012 was the relief and satisfaction at the end of the ride—it packed some pretty nice things in this last month. I guess it’s true what they say: it does come when you least expect it (and I am not actually referring to love for this one).
  8. “Dear whoever you might be | I’m still waiting patiently.” –The Civil Wars, To Whom It May Concern >> Yup, I’m waiting. Hoping with all my heart that 2013 is finally the year that I’ll love and be loved in return. :)

So there. Thanks to everyone whom I have spent and shared 2012 with and to friends all and new. I am giddily excited for 2013. I know it’s going to be another tough year, but I can be more than you, 2013.

BRING IT.