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Jun 2013
i. I’d tell them of the moment you spoke about your favorite cartoon characters, and the way your face flashed when you described them to me. How innocent that brilliance was and how guileless your mannerisms were. And I’d wish they understand why I fell in love with the feeling of your innocent enthusiasm about some nonsense cartoons no one else cared about.

ii. I’d show them all your worries and troubles stacked on top of one another in a carelessly balanced house made of playing cards. And while they were appraising these I’d point out how selfless you are. How your troubles were never centered around your own joy. And I’d wish they see that the house of cards I showed them is a reflection of the person you are. The kind of person who’d knock those cards down if they had your name on them instead.

iii. I’d paint them a picture of your mind as I see it. Full of intricate ambitions, contradictory emotions, unreasonable doubts and absent-minded memories. I’d use black and blue pen to dot your journey here. And bright red to show them the great places you are destined to go. And I’d wish they stand back and appreciate the amalgam of colors instead of questioning why. There isn’t a single spot on the canvas I seem to fully understand despite being the artist.

iv. I’d take them on a walk to the place we first met. I’d make sure it was a sunny day first, just like that one. I’d tell them I didn’t think much of you at all when I first met you. I’d make them sit in that same spot, and feel the same way we felt as indifferent strangers. And I’d wish they understand that despite the seeming insignificance of that moment, I look back and am convinced I see a halo of light above that place and the beguiling simplicity of that day.  

v. I’d tell them how tightly you hugged me when I was sad. How softly you touched my arm when you assured me that nothing was wrong. How quietly you showed me an overflowing friendship that’s waiting to combust  And I’d wish they understand that it’s not just how wonderful it was breathing in the smell of your old jacket. It’s how wonderful it felt, feeling the weighty presence of a thousand words unspoken.

vi. I’d warn them before they meet you, this is what I’d say: “It’s easy to make that boy laugh, but it’s hard to win him over. His love is not on display, his mind has been sent to the dry cleaners. His laugh has been blocked with by caution and logic. But don’t ever say you don’t understand that he’s a wonderful human being”, I’d hope they understand your appearance is all pretense.

vii. And if someone asked me why I love you, this is what I’d say: It is hard for me to imagine going through the rest of this life and meeting another singular human being like you.
Zaira Diana
Written by
Zaira Diana  Manila
(Manila)   
854
   ---, Nat Lipstadt and Timothy
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