The First Sin

Let’s take a brief moment to consider this: in a friendship where two people of the opposite gender are closer than siblings, where the male is more devoted to the female than he has ever been to anyone else in his entire life, what could possibly go wrong?

 

All roads lead to one answer, don’t they? Yes, like in all the crappy romance novels we read and the movies we watch, the boy falls for the girl. But beware of all that you believe blindly, because what the romance reads don’t tell you is that in such situations, the chances of the endings being of the “happily ever after” sort are slightly less than a snowball’s chance in hell. Here, as I know, was the first of our many faults: despite knowing that any action on my part, however little, could be the onset of an unprecedented disaster, I ignored my better judgment and laid bare my true, unadulterated feelings for you. I have always been a realist, so I knew exactly what was to come. However, while I successfully predicted the catastrophe that took slowly but surely took its place, I failed to foresee the terrible form it went on to take…the form of you.

 

I hope you haven’t turned an irritated eye at my words, for these aren't my emotions getting in the way. I could take an oath that whatever I am writing, I am doing so with a rational mind. Whatever words I use against you, I am using them with full control of my mind, completely nonchalant to petty sentiments from years ago. Frankly, I could barely care less about what happened so many years ago, which is one more reason I am baffled at fact that I’m taking the effort to write all this. Anyway, let’s move onward. Even though I'm not sure how much of "us" you remember, but there is no way I'm to be convinced if you say you forgot the night I had told you my true feelings. And for your sake, I'll recount it in third person, so you can be a bystander and watch what you did to me. Perhaps this time, you'll see the entire moment objectively.

 

Don't mistake this for a need for sympathy, however. Just a bit of understanding and realization will do.

 

It was during one of our long walks. We were having a particularly amusing conversation, and even the biting winter could not stop us from laughing hard enough to bring tears in our eyes. The laughter faded as we ambled on, but the grins remained on our lips, with a chuckle escaping here and there. The silence between us grew, but as always, it wasn't awkward. It was comforting, rather, one of the moments which makes you cherish the company you have. Nevertheless, I decided to break the quiet with something that would seem akin to an explosion.

 

"Hey, listen," I grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a stop. For a split second, you were nonplussed, bemused at my sudden movement. I stared into your eyes, still holding your hand, as I uttered the three fateful words: "I love you."

 

After what seemed like seconds stretched to ages, your eyes narrowed like they did every time I made your laugh, except this time, you couldn't muster the smile. Behind the amusement in your eyes was a sense of being unnerved, a state of complete confusion washing over her. As I looked deeper, however, I saw another emotion, one I couldn't exactly put my finger on. After a while, I realized you were cursing yourself for ignoring what was so blatantly coming at us with full force.

 

"You can't be serious," you stammered, not even fighting to free your hand from my grip. "I don't believe it. You must be joking."

 

"I'm dead serious."

 

"Enough, man. Stuff like this is not funny, you twisted freak."

 

I gave a sudden tug on your hand, pulling your even closer. "What makes you think I'm joking?"

 

"Stop it! It's not funny!"

 

"I'm not trying to be funny." The patience in my voice never ran out. "I love you."

 

For yet another drawn-out moment, we stood there, your hand in mine, so close I could feel your breathing, as you looked up at me, your eyes wondrous, probing...questioning. After what felt like ages later, you gently twisted your wrist away from my grip. "I'd like to go home now."

 

The rest of the journey took minutes, but as the romance books tell you, it sure didn't feel like it. We walked in silence, but this time, it wasn't comforting. It was heavy, pensive...deafening, even. The thoughts and emotions going through both of us were mutually exclusive. While I was observing every single move you made, gauging the expressions I knew so well, you were overwhelmed, no doubt processing the unexpected bombshell I had dropped on her. Soon enough, we reached your apartment. You turned to me, still dazed, and in a choked voice, said, "Goodnight," before rushing up the stairs and disappearing into the building. I was finally at peace, having expressed something I was struggling with for weeks. That night, I had the best sleep in months. Appropriate, I think, because all that happened next stole a year's worth of sleep from me.

 

Perhaps there was a streak of optimism in my pessimistic realism, because I hoped things would ultimately turn out for the best. That was the worst forecast I had made in my entire life; even the last embers of hope I struggled desperately to protect were stomped out with resolute determination when you decided to turn a complete blind eye to any expression of love I made to you. This hurt me deeply, far more than your pitiless self could ever realized, but I did not push the issue. Why? Simply put, I was to blame for whatever strain was put on our relationship, both in my eyes and, undoubtedly, in yours as well. But on what grounds you decided to blame me is an enigma I still haven’t been successful in unveiling. I blamed myself because of a guilty conscience, since I thought our friendship was dented and scratched thanks to me.

 

But how much damage had I caused? All I had done was put my emotions for you into words. There was nothing I expected, no ulterior motives I had, no intentions of taking things further. There was absolutely no change in how I acted towards you, was there? No, I was the same, ready to walk with you, ready to listen to music with you, to laugh with you, to tease you. And what had you done? Provide me with further conviction, no matter unnecessary it was, that you held me wrong. How? By making up your mind to not just ignore the issue, but to completely close your eyes to my very existence.

 

I can almost hear the cogs of your mind churning in high gear, asking the same questions over and over again: “When did I ignore you?” Think back, dear girl, to the days when you walked into class, head unwavering and eyes straight ahead, and sat on a bench in the opposite side of the room, leaving your usual spot, a chair next to me, completely bare of your warmth. If that doesn't ring a bell, we can always talk about the countless times you scurried away alone or with someone else when you spotted me waiting to walk you home. What more, not only did you give off the impression of completely painting me out of your life, you chose to torment my already-wounded spirit by talking to your friends about the things you loved about your “crush” specifically when you were sure I was in earshot. More than once, I spotted the sympathetic glances your companion threw at me when you were looking the other way, but they were afraid of doing anything, even when they knew you were in the wrong, lest their friendship with you would deteriorate.

 

What did you get out of afflicting such anguish on an injured soul, except for the satisfaction from having someone head-over-heels into you? Then again, now that I think about it, maybe that simple ego boost was enough to goad you into stooping so low. After all, the one thing I have realized is that character is the one thing you thoroughly lacked.