I was never the popular one in school, mostly ignored or bullied by my peers. I spent my school days being bullied and listening to the "cool" girls talk about boys. I wasn't one to believe in love and happily ever afters, as I thought who would love me if no one even wanted to be my friend?
I was an outcast, my friends were all boys. But as we grew up, the boys wouldn't hang out with me anymore.
At home, I was a good girl, listening to everyone and playing fair.
Until I met him.
My first impression of him was of an adorable, nerdy fellow. He proved me quite wrong, he was a fighter, a trouble-maker. And I loved him for him. I loved his strong side that he showed everyone, I loved his sweet smile and adorable accent, I loved his serious side and I loved his cute fear of spiders. I still do.
He had a girlfriend then, and seemed happy, so I decided not to tell him anything. I didn't want to ruin his world or our friendship. A year went by this way.
Something happened, he broke up with his girl, but he wouldn't tell me why. It didn't really matter and our friendship continued. He came over to my place, I went to his, and he even slept over once. Life looked less grim and school became a happier place since I began standing up for myself.
I asked him to be my boyfriend and he accepted. That had no much effect on us, our easy-going friendship continued. We hung out at arcades and played stupid games, like nothing changed.
Until I got angry at him one day, and he dumped me. At first, the pain seemed surreal. I was still his friend and there wasn't much awkward stuff to get over because I didn't want to break our friendship too. It worked fine for me, being his happy friend in the mornings and crying myself to sleep at night.
Then he moved away to another country, and I never got to say goodbye. I couldn't. When he was leaving, I gave him a small nod and moved off, as if if I denied that he was truly leaving, he would stay.
When I woke up in the morning, I was hit by an overwhelming tide of emotions. I checked the clock, 5:30am. He was gone already.
I missed him terribly and took to cutting myself to try ease the pain I had hidden. I cried incessantly, it hurt so badly. I felt like my soul was broken to pieces and set on fire.
He has a new girl there and I was really happy for him. It was my only wish, to have him happy, and I would gladly support him from afar if need be. I'd do anything for him.
Every time he visited, I wanted to hug him so desperately, but I was afraid it would ruin the perfect world he must have fought to build in his new home, if someone spread a rumor out saying he had some other girl in Singapore, his real girl would get angry at him, and he loved her. He didn't want to lose her.
My happiness is of no importance to me, I was never meant to have any. But he had been happy all along and I would do anything to keep it that way. Even if that means cutting and crying alone at home, hurting when he has problems and sacrificing my life, dreams and whatever happiness I may find.
I'll always be waiting for him, to pick him up when he's down and help him through whatever problems I can. It's been that way for three years, and it will stay that way.