It was during our Psychological Test before freshman year when I first met you. You had long hair, thin limbs, and such a beautiful face. I sat behind you and I remember noticing how furiously eager you scribbled your essays on the questionnaire. A few moments later, you dropped your pencil and I picked it up for you.
You smiled and said thank you.
That same day, we had to introduce ourselves to each other and mention an animal for some reason I no longer recall. I don’t even remember what animal you mentioned, nor do I remember what I said. I caught your name but it slipped through my memory easily. But I didn’t forget your beautiful face.
Yours is the kind of face that one would never get tired looking at; you would probably put Aphrodite to shame if people knew how she really looked like. You are not just a pretty face―you are beautiful.
And then we met again during our first day. It must’ve been fate that drove me into the midst of you and two more girls who will mean the world to me. How amazing was it that the four of us, December babies, were thrown together that very first day? What were the odds? (But actually, looking back, there are quite a lot of December babies in our batch. Still―destiny.) And the four of us stuck together since, though one had to take a different road.
Throughout the years, I have had the privilege of being with you. We’ve filmed a short on Summer Solstice that one day in UP Diliman, gone through tough subjects like Comm 3 and Fil 50 separate from our block. I’ve laughed a lot at your corny jokes, simply because they aren’t funny but you are. I’ve even taken my first ever radiograph with you (albeit it being underfixed and ugly). You told me about some of your beliefs, your stands and principles, and I remember feeling awe―at how genuine you are. You still are. And I love you for it. You constantly amaze me, I am not kidding. I am proud and awed at you for never letting go of music: your love, your passion. If I could be half as passionate with something as you are with music, I would be very happy.
You are a wonderful person. You are a delight to everyone around you.
I love you. I know I have never been there always; I know we’ve often drifted apart. But my heart has always been with you, as cheesy as that may sound; you may laugh. You are one of the dearest people I treasure in my small life. I’m sorry if I haven’t said enough for you to know that. Sometimes I become shy in your presence because you are such a force to be reckoned with, and I wish I could be like that, too.
You are an inspiration to me, you see.
And whenever I watch you sing in front, I just want to shout into the world: Isn’t she amazing?
I want you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what it takes. And I hope and pray that you will figure it out; it’s not going to be easy. But you will go through it. You can do it. You are something, you know.
We believe in you. We got your back, sister. 🙂
What happened today really scared me, scared us. I honestly don’t know what to do at the moment except write this now and have you read it later. I wish I could share with you the burden of whatever it is you’re carrying. I am always ready to do so.
Please don’t lose hope. Please don’t give up.
This world will be very much darker without your kind of sunshine.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
We will go through this with you, no matter what. We are here for you.
I want all that I love to keep on living,
and you whom I loved and sang above all things
to keep flowering into full bloom.
Soneto de la Noche by Pablo Neruda