I Am No Peter Pan

In his story, she was always the Tinkerbell. Never been the Wendy. But this time, it's the other way around.

"I waited for you to come into my life, but now that you're gone, maybe I was just destined to wait for you forever."

Then she went away.
And maybe, never to return again.

I even volunteered to accompany her to the airport. I know I can't take it, but I was hoping that sometime before her flight, she'll angrily leave me, the airport, and the airplane; and stay, maybe not yet with me, but at least, here.

But the cloud formed above my head popped when I saw her walking towards the way where only passengers could. She didn't even say goodbye. And it made me hope that she didn't because she'll be seeing me again. One day.

I rushed to my no-longer-home house because she might call to say what she forgot to tell me earlier, like how much she hates me, how much she regrets making me a part of her life, how selfish I had become, name it! As long as I can hear her voice again. I was staring at the phone and after 4 hours, it still didn't ring. So I went upstairs to take a nap since I know I can never sleep.

Every morning when I wake up, I always check my mailbox, hoping that there would be, even a single mail that is different from the rest. But I always get disappointed for only credit card billing statements, promo flyers, and subscription updates are there. Nothing from her. Checking my mailbox is actually the next thing I do after kissing her picture on my bedside table. It's some kind of relief after a whole night of crying. Only to start crying again.

I must be that strong to carry on 3 Christmas seasons without her. If what they say is true that tears are a sign of strength, then I'm the strongest man in the world, yet is not alive. For when she went away, not only her clothes from my closet were the ones she took, but also my precious smiles that only her can see since only her can make.

As I write her another letter, which I can't send for I don't know what her address is, I am wondering where she is now, what she's doing, who's with her, whom does she really want to be with? When the phone didn't bother to prove me it rings and when only tons of nonsense letters were in my mailbox, I should have known that the answer to my latter question is not me. Definitely not me.

Maybe she's with someone new, but maybe she knows me still. Maybe he's doing things for her that I never made her feel. Maybe she misses my embrace or maybe I'm just a familiar face. I regret that I didn't stop her, but it was not because of pride. I didn't because I was hoping that there's something she would realize. But unfortunately, it didn't happen.

In everything I do, a tear always drops. To the point that my tears could tell you where I'm at. Because they're on the paths I have taken and will be on the paths I wish to take. And if only I could be where she is, I would leave these tears on the ground, that even just because of curiosity, she'll find her way to me.