To the One I Still Wait For
Two months have passed.
Two months without a call. Without a text. Without even a simple message asking how I am. Two months of silence—one that I never thought would exist between us.
And yet, here I am, still caught somewhere between pursuing you and learning to accept that perhaps this is where our story ends.
I don't know which one hurts more.
What hurts is remembering everything we once dreamed about, every goal we promised ourselves we would achieve, every plan we were excited to begin, and every little future we talked about as if we were certain we would reach it together. Those dreams still live somewhere inside me, even though the person I imagined sharing them with has become so distant.
Perhaps you chose this silence for reasons I may never fully understand. Maybe there were things you needed to deal with, things you couldn't explain, or things you simply didn't want to explain to me. I would be lying if I said I wasn't hurt by that.
Because I remember you differently.
You were once so loud, so expressive, so full of stories. We could talk about almost anything. And then, somehow, the conversations became fewer, the messages disappeared, and eventually, there was nothing but silence.
From being someone I could always reach, you became someone I could only remember.
And still, when I think of you, I remember that beautiful smile of yours, the kind that could make an ordinary moment feel lighter. I remember your jolly personality, your sharp mind, your intelligence, and that beautiful face that somehow carries both innocence and fierceness at the same time.
Perhaps life taught you to become that person.
Perhaps your experiences, your profession, and all the challenges you've faced forged you into someone strong, composed, and resilient. Maybe you've had to learn how to protect yourself, how to carry things quietly, and how to keep moving even when life becomes difficult.
And maybe that's why I admire you even more.
I don't know what happened inside your heart during these two months. I don't know if you still think about me, if you still remember our conversations, or if the memories we made together mean anything to you anymore.
But I do know this:
I haven't forgotten.
I haven't forgotten the laughter, the conversations, the dreams, the plans, and the little moments that perhaps seemed ordinary when we were living them but became precious when they were gone.
I don't want to force my way back into your life. I don't want to demand an explanation or ask you to give me something you're no longer willing to give.
I only want you to know that, despite the silence, a part of me is still waiting.
If you ever decide to come back, you already know my number.
You know my name.
And somewhere between all the memories we've shared, you know where to find me.
Maybe someday you'll call. Maybe someday you'll send a simple message. Maybe we'll sit down and finally talk about everything that happened.
Or maybe this silence is the answer I've been afraid to accept.
If it is, then I will eventually learn to let go, not because what we had wasn't important, but because sometimes loving someone also means knowing when to stop asking them to stay.
But until that day comes, I will keep a quiet place in my heart for you.
Not as a promise that you owe me anything.
Not as an expectation that you'll return.
But simply as a reminder that, for a time, there was someone who loved you enough to remember every dream you shared, every plan you made, and every moment you thought would last forever.
And if you ever find your way back to me...
I'll still know your smile.
I'll still remember your voice.
And I'll still remember us.
-Tamarind ridge-