The One That Got Away

“…the one you first kissed, the one you first loved, the one you lost your virginity to, the one you put on a pedestal… the one that got away.”

This just hits the right spot and my heart does ache. I wanted to write something similar but all I have been right now is a big jumble of extreme emotions. Now this article returns to me, after having first read it 8 years ago, and it speaks the same thoughts I want to convey at this moment.

I hope it’s not too late for me. I hope I learn – about love and life, enough to make me not lose someone. I don’t want to have someone that got away.

“…I guess it’s that person with who everything was great, everything was perfect, but the timing was just wrong. There was no fault in the person, there was no flaw in the chemistry, but the cards just didn’t fall the right way, I suppose.”

kriscrossing

By: Mark J. Macapagal, The Manila Times

In your life, you’ll make note of a lot of people. Ones with whom you shared something special, ones who will always mean something. There’s the one you first kissed, the one you first loved, the one you lost your virginity to, the one you put on a pedestal, the one you’re with …and the one that got away.

Who is the one that got away?

I guess it’s that person with who everything was great, everything was perfect, but the timing was just wrong. There was no fault in the person, there was no flaw in the chemistry, but the cards just didn’t fall the right way, I suppose. I believe in the fact that ending up with someone, finding a long time partner that is, does not lie merely in the other person. I can actually argue that an equal part…

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On New Years, each year

I have had 23 New Year’s Eves so far, and only remember about 16. I can divide these 16 years into two halves, based on how I spent it – the first half all spent at home and the other half variable, depending on where I stay during NYE.

I’ve always thought the conventional Filipino way of celebrating is… cozy; it’s traditional and homey. When I was still in primary school, I thought it was how everyone in the world celebrated. My father would buy firecrackers, not fireworks because mainly they just crack my eardrums. They’re as loud as explosives and potentially fatal, and the whole block would end up with smokes because almost each house would have their own share of explosions. And this is why I never was so keen on firecrackers unlike our neighbor’s kids or most classmates. My mother made me wear polka dots and red dresses. My sister and I would also jump as high as I can so I could grow taller (currently I am 5ft 2in and the only growth I’ll ever have is sideways). In our hands were coin jars that clanged and jingled as I shook it vigorously, hoping for a prosperous year. Continue reading