This was an email I got last night. It was actually already shared by Martin, a friend. I remember my comment quite clearly stating, "Describes pretty much how I'd feel at the end of the year." In fact it is starting right now.
Thank you Jeff Agustin for always knowing what to share.
I will fight to move on.
Hi, I'd like to share this article from Peyups (2004), it was written by someone I know way back. I accidentally opened it last night, then I found myself reading it over and over again. Perhaps you might have read this before, but here it is, nonetheless.
I think it's just right to end the year with this note, and then move on.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Moving On Letter
Contributed by weetah (Edited by amplifier)
Thursday, February 26, 2004 @ 05:03:34 PM
It occurred to me again, this time in the middle of
procrastinating against studying for an exam tomorrow.
I kept you safe within the remote areas of my
consciousness, but suddenly, as if driven by an
unknown force, your memory unearths itself, returning
some sort of unfinished business. Consequently, I
pause from studying and I start thinking about you.
And it always left me a touch of sadness.
As far as I was concerned, I made it a point not to
think about you anymore, at least not that often as I
used to, in the form of preoccupation. There’s a lot
of homework to do, friends to spend time and energy
with, family affairs, television, radio. There’s
even a new object of affection in the rough. Works for
the most part, I should say. Within the confines of my
room with school books before me, there is forgetting.
Just like the manner by which ice cubes freeze
bacteria within their crystal networks. As long as
they remain frozen, everything’s safe. There is no
need to worry.
But somehow, you still manage to permeate my system,
as if it were an expertise or a tediously-learned
skill. Moment by moment, you profusely enter my mind,
filling my awareness with lost memories of
once-upon-a-times and whatnots. Remembrances of
holding hands, afternoon walks, lunch outs, text
messages and phone calls. Of yesterday’s seemingly
unbreakable promises and proclamations of forever.
I should’ve put into mind what an old friend once
wrote, ‘Forever is not real’.
I have always yearned to understand what had happened
between us. Us won’t even suffice: it was never a
real relationship to begin with. We just hung out and
talked and spent time together more often than we did
with our other friends and colleagues. Sometimes it
pained me that I could not do anything in my power to
make you speak about us. Certainly, the ambiguity was
present, the ambiguity which you never wanted to
I could only let you go on with whatever it was that
you desired, whether it be ranting about your
insecurities, rejoicing over happier news or lamenting
about your eventful past. On the other side, I
remained silent in the middle of your hyped-up
emotion. I was like a child with beaming eyes, eager
to hear more stories of how you came about to be the
person that you are. For you once told me that
listening to you gave you strength to go on, and so I
did. I have always wanted you to be okay.
Yet when it was my turn to be heard, the silence was a
void. I suspended my disbelief when I convinced myself
that you always meant well, whenever you apologized
for there was nothing you can do about my bouts of
depression, or when you simplify things by saying that
everything will be alright. I know I should not expect
things from other people; perhaps I was at fault when
I wanted more from you when you can only give so
You hurt me. You hurt me many, many times. You hurt me
so intensely I never dared to tell you anything about
it. I was a fool to think that it was a better way of
dealing with things. And that, I presume to be my
biggest mistake: I abandoned myself. I sought for your
happiness that I forgot about mine altogether.
And just like that, you vanished, very much like a
soap bubble floating across air. I have watched you in
complete awe, wonder and even fascination. And similar
to any ethereal fleeting moment, you were gone,
leaving me clueless as to whether you even existed in
the first place.
So maybe what we had was love. Maybe I loved you, and
I hope to heavens that you loved me back: even just
for a split second when we held hands, or during that
moment when I looked into your eyes, or the time when
I laughed at one of your silly quirks. I’d be
content with that idea, I’d be content that in the
course of our friendship, there was a moment of
mutuality; even if it was so quick I never noticed it
Perhaps I still do love you, but that won’t do much
now. I can fight to save everything that I’ve
invested, but I chose not to. I have treasured you in
the past, and that will be enough. Right now, all I
can do is wish you well in all your endeavors,
including the pursuit for the one who is right for
you. When you find her, I wish she makes you happy.
You make her happy as well.
The end is only a beginning disguised as a parting. I
will still think about you every now and then,
probably be sad once in a while, but you need not to
worry. For I am okay and I will be okay under all
circumstances. It may take time for me to love again,
but in the long run, it will be all worth it. I may
still risk myself, but every risk in its own respect
is worth taking anyway. Love is such a convoluted
mixture of emotions and decisions that it’s a matter
of working your way through it.
Thank you for gracing my life like a whirlwind,
leaving me breathless and hurt, inspired and furious,
affectionate and listless. You’ve taught me quite a
lot and I learned them in the most humbling manner.
Thank you for showing me what it means to be human, to
commit mistakes, and to discover how to regain
yourself after everything that had happened.
Like what I always say, Ad astra per aspera. A rough
road leads to the stars. I’m on my way to becoming