On the Other Side

Dear Anthony,

I really like you. In fact, you might be my first love. I never felt like this before – I have cried about a boy once, but I never cried about the same boy for many, many times. Just talking about you brings tears to my eyes. I have always known things are not going to work out between us, but I never thought that it would hurt this much.

It is only a matter of time until you leave to across the country for college, and it seems like you do not bother to make an effort to see me. On Twitter, you always mention how you are going to miss your friends, but never me. On Blackberry Messenger, you never seem like you want to see me. “So it is not going to hurt that much when the time comes, and it is not going to be that hard for me to leave,” you say.

But fuck, Anthony, it still hurts.

You were the first one who had feelings for me in this so called relationship. I struggled deciding which one I should choose: you, or Raymond, because we all know that I could not have both of you. I decided to be with you, although we are never an official couple.

But all those months were lovely, was it? Showing affection to each other and going out to movies without being an item. You have your own comfortable little spot in my heart, and I do not think you are going to leave it even when you leave for college.

Time is getting closer to your flight schedule and you treat me like I have never been in your heart. You talk to me as if we are just acquaintances.

Through texts you sound like you care, like I still have a spot in your life. But when we actually meet, it seems like you do not give a shit. You give me the coldest glance and flattest voice you have ever given me.

I am standing in the middle of a road over here. You are standing in one side; if I go there, that means I will wait for you. In the other side of the road is nothing; if I go there, that means I will not wait for you and move on with my life, letting you go.

I am really clueless in which to choose.

I have seen my best friend being in love and in the deepest hole in her life. She cried for the man that never loved her back for many, many nights for two years. Two years later she finally let go of him and moved on. I did not understand then, but I do now.

I am afraid.

What if I will be just like her? What if I am even worse? What if I do not get over you for years and years and years? My feet are still stuck in the middle of the road while life continues on—my friends getting married with the men they thought they would never fall in love with and you settling down with another woman while I am still standing alone.

My best friend always says: “Do what your heart says. If your mind and your heart are arguing, choose what makes you happy.”

So if you already make me sad now, why should I bother?

But my feet are still glued to the cemented road.

What if when I turn to the side of nothingness, you call my name and run after me? What if when I turn to the side of you, you turn from me and walk away to another person?

Amerie sighs, pressing her temple. She puts her pen down, skims through her cursive writing before biting her lower lip and crumpling the paper, tossing it aside to the pile of growing paper balls.

Why is it so hard to get things off my chest when I’m feeling emotional? she thinks, Words are jumbling together and they become complicated. I can’t get my point out.

Amerie’s phone beeps next to her hand. It is a reminder that Anthony will be leaving in three hours, moving across the country and living miles away from where she is. Thoughts are fighting in her head. She stands up, grabbing her phone and car key and she finds herself at the airport an hour later.

She looks around, searching for Anthony. There he is, just outside the entrance, with his friends surrounding him. Their eyes meet and the invisible contact seems to fight through the people that are in their way. Anthony is the one who walks up to her.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” she says.

They look at each other for it seems like forever.

“So this is finally it,” she croaks out.

He nods, pursing his lips together. “Why are you here?” he asks, voice flat with disinterest.

She hesitates. Her mind is screaming: What a douche! “Why do you think I am?”

He tears his gaze away from hers, staring to the ground.

She chuckles, shaking her head. Fine. Her confidence builds up as her decision is finally made. “You’re a douche, Anthony.” His eyes shoot back to hers. “That’s all I want to say. Good luck across the country.” Good luck feeling pathetic about your sorry ass.

Without any more words, she walks away.

She walks towards the side of nothingness, and she does not think that she will regret it.