Fifty-eight

Sunday, February 27, 2011

11:13 PM

My Dearest Popol,

It never really occurred to me, since starting to write these letters, that there was a possibility that we wouldn't end up together. I suppose I was so certain about how I felt that I never paused, even for a moment, to consider that maybe you no longer feel the same way about me. I took it for granted that it was only a matter of time, that you would tell me you loved me, sooner not later. But maybe you wont?

It's curious, when you start having doubts, you think of nothing else. And even things you wouldn't normally take notice of, or think of as suspect, necessarily, all seem to point to one thing: things are changing.

I don't know when these feelings of unease started, exactly. Though that day a week ago stands out: when you told me you were going to Baguio. Then after that, you seem to take longer to reply to my texts, or you don't reply at all, or you seem to be distant, and cold. It could all be my imagination. I really hope it is.

When you're away from me, and on one of your trips with your friends, and having a lot of fun, do you spare me a thought at all?