Teardrops On My Guitar

By Juseph Elas

Perhaps, one of the hardest things to do is admit your feelings to someone you love or like because all of us are vulnerable to falling prey to having our hearts broken and our feelings rejected; often receiving ‘thank you’s’ instead of ‘I love/like you too’s’. It’s true when they said that falling in love is beautiful and magical and thrilling. However, what they didn’t say is falling in love is also crashing and sad and tragic all the same.

I have been – and still am – in love with someone named Christian. He is a nurse by profession and my friends know how attracted I am to nurses. I don’t really know why that is the case, but I have an emotional and physical attraction towards nurses. To me, they have the cunning ability to be passionate and caring in all aspects in life.

I met Christian back in 2011 (or maybe that was in 2012. I lost track of the date, sorry.) on Twitter. At first, he was just that ordinary follower who would interact when I tweet something worth noticing. It’s not really hard to befriend Chan-Chan, as what I would love to call him. He’s friendly and cheeky and humorous and there’s something about him that will make you like him the second you’ll start building that bridge between you. Perhaps, those things constitute to his entire being.

And it went like that for as far as I can remember. We shared good laughs and stories and we would always greet each other like what friends should do. I didn’t even notice that we are already friends, to be honest. It’s really a rare instance for someone to find a stranger and turn that stranger to one of your treasured friends.

I still remember the time when Christian admitted some things to me. His identity – not that he is a poser or what not – story about his love life, stories about his past, dreams, high school life, family, and even his views about life. We shared too much of what we could, one would probably infer that we have transgress the borders of friendship already. And I think yes, we have transgress that border and I like that. I like how open we are to each other, I like how I call him Chan-Chan and him calling me whatever he sees fit, I like how I teased him about his weight and how I would call him fat Chan-Chan and how he would call me ‘gurang’ (a Filipino term for an old person), I like how he smiles, I like how he does his thing. Yes, I am still using the present tense because I still like him. And if I can take that to a different level, I would.

One story I would never forget is when he was on his way to work and he was running late. And in the rush to get a ride, he jay-walked inside PMA in Baguio and he was reprimanded. He was worried because he is a son of a soldier and that his father might get angry for what he did. It may sound normal to anyone, but to me, it’s a story that would always make me smile wherever I am.

I know some of you reading this might have already guessed the hints I’m dropping and I have to give it to you. Yes, you are right. I just don’t like Christian. I love Christian.

The stories he shared to me, the laughter’s we shared, those late-night conversations, all constitute to my growing affection for him. I could even say that I already know him through and through – if that’s even possible just by basing it through the stories he shared to me.

I would want for Christian to know that I just don’t like him; that in the kaleidoscopic turn of life, I have already learned how to love him. I want him to know that it has been the case since I realized that I always want to talk to him but never knowing how to start, since I realized that I feel jealousy whenever someone is flirting with him, since I found out that he is all that I ever wanted to have. I would love him to know all of these probably because a little part of me is hoping that he might reciprocate the feeling. But a part of me is saying that he might not. No matter the case, I am still willing to take the risk.

I guess you could say I am deeply in love and I’ll tell you yes I am. There are nights when I couldn’t even sleep because I am thinking of him; thinking how he is, thinking how was his day, imagining stuff like me caressing his tousled hair while he’s sharing his day to me. I am so in love with him that it hurts; it hurts to think that I am limited. Limited because the chances are slim. And it makes me cry sometimes. Like one of Taylor Swift’s songs, Christian is the teardrops on my guitar.

I want him to know how happy I am to have met him. I want him to know that I will never be the kind of guy that will hurt him, I will be proud of him and I am willing to fight with and for him. I am crazy for writing these instead of saying all of these to him. Perhaps, this is more to me that it is for him. I guess I am a big fat coward. I am afraid of falling prey to having my feelings rejected and my heart broken. But I am also thinking that this might reach him and he will say what he feels for me. I am not expecting for the best, but I am hoping for it. Praying.

 

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