Letter no. 30: The Wrist Watch

mdiJGwTbnLgsN_ARolD7GAwTime flies, they say. But I have never seen it flying. When the dawn sets and the cold night longs for more than bedsheets and pillows, I just weep. How on earth can memories be forgotten, and beers become milk again?

Dear Michael,

All along, I was thinking about myself. From the moment I forgot about Chris, the person who hurt me in the past, I had been doing well. I wasn’t his choice, yes but all wounds are healed, all lessons are learned, all great things bring back to life. Totally moved on. Not so long ago, I tried to reconnect as somehow he’s significant to me, as a friend this time, as if no bridges were burned. He came back to my life again, Chris, the person who hurt me in the past, was in pain that time. I didn’t care about what happened to him and his choice. I only care about himself alone and how he could get any better. He’d been drunk for several nights while I was busy with my life. Suddenly, I realized I should be at least there as a friend. As a one time friend, I tried to save as I care. I gave the attention a wasted man deserve to have. Time went on and there had been laughters, confessions, rotten love, some attentions and my mind had been extending its limits. Every day, a new limit is set, a bar higher than the usual. I started to get confuse, finally admitting that I had regained the love for the second time. So I had risked a second chance.

On the fourth of July, I bought new a watch. That day, I was the happiest person on earth. I thought that it would remind me of how I should live everyday with love on the heart. I bought it to remind me of the value of time: that every seconds counts for work, that for every minute, a lot could happen, that every hours of sleep is essential, that every alarm would wake me up to live another day, and that every date I see would mark a past as I embrace every new day.

On the fifth of July, I bought another watch: the same exact watch I had bought on the fourth. It’s amazing to have two but it wasn’t really my plan to have them both. I just bought it for someone who’s been giving me a reason to not stop loving.

On the sixth of July, we met for a date. We tagged ourselves as two people having an undefined relationship, yet happy. We didn’t talk about it. I knew then he was on the process of moving on and I admitted the fact that we couldn’t be that abrupt. There were signs, there were hopes. He said he would never come back to the old love again, and he was sorry for what happened before. Whenever he would start talking trashes, and I would just stop him with a kiss, and the sweetest of it, he would respond. All the trust were gained, all the love rose, at least for me and the rest of the past I burried in his hazel eyes. There was still spark.

We promised to be that way no matter what happens, stay untitled but happy to avoid complications. I agreed.

On the seventh of July. I was alone.

We planned prior that day to visit the Carnival in Mall of Asia, but he said he was stuck on his son’s birthday celebration. It was canceled, and it was his son, so I didn’t further argue. Happy birthday to his son. I wished him all the best.

I traveled down south somewhere in Tagaytay to have some time alone- on a Sunday. While every parents were busy playing with their kids, my mind was busy thinking if I would still risk the rest of the time.

As I felt the cold winds and viewed the raging birds against the clouds, my heart pounded like a sick baby, and all of the sudden, I was chasing tears to stop by and hold for a little while, but it still burst when I could no longer bear it. I was so sad. Perhaps, one of the saddest point in my life. I looked at the wrist watch I bought two days ago. They were perfect for two.

That day, Sunday, July the seventh. I was all prepared. I was all ready to accept my faith in love. I fought for it the past few days, I was ready to win or lose. But my plan was all messed because he wasn’t there that day.

We could have been at the Carnival in Mall of Asia. That time, I had the ticket for two, on hand. We could have ridden the extremest (if there’s such a word) coaster and I could have seen him shouting out loud. We could have laughed the whole afternoon and eaten some street foods. We could have shot some poppers and flown balloons like kids, and when the Ferris wheel goes up, when we feel like we are on top of the world, I could have knelt down and proposed, and asked for a second try, with the watch I bought the other day, and I could have expressed and even shouted to the whole world how much I love him.

That could have been picture perfect.

But it wasn’t. He wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. And I guess wer’e really not meant to be. And that sucks.


Excerpt from my 2013 Diary. February 13. Ash Wednesday.

And now. The other guy is back. They’re all fixed up, and I am out of the picture, and in no less than few days, I would mark no memory to him. I realized, I am not significant, not even a friend, cause he lied. He denied to himself that it’s all over for him but the truth is it’s not. He gave hope to us motivating me to risk but the truth is, I was a bouncer, an ill-fated healer who couldn’t exactly heal his wounds. And I realized, of all that’s happening, he ate everything that he said and I risked the wrong guy for the second time around. I somehow knew his personality and I guess being what he is doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s proper.

But I understand that memory can sometimes mislead us. It sticks and it stinks. And that old love wouldn’t fade in a snap, like he still loves the other guy, and I still love him, just like you reading this who must probably still love your ex. It takes no time to heal, it sometimes take an attitude, my bad I forgot. And his bad he didn’t clear it up. I know what he’s thinking, that he’s up on the middle of the seesaw weighing two other people on both ends, that I wouldn’t have a capability to trash talk and stuff, and that’s true. I have no time. He still happens, and that’s enough. And I had enough.

Youv’e been warned Michael, when love strikes, it just does. No questions ask. Not even a wristwatch can explain it, and speaking of, someone better probably deserves the watch, a symbolism of time that I have.

Loading more beers on the fridge,


Posted on July 8, 2013, in LETTERS 25-32, LOVE LETTERS. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.


  2. When we realize that a second watch isn’t needed – we are each our own soul mate – the rest falls into place and the right people enter our lives. Be well; don’t lose your dreams…

  3. Let me thank you by visiting my blog. I hope to read from you too

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