And here I write...

This is where I write anything and everything I need to. This is where I write my story - no holdbacks. This is where I write how I feel, what is going on and everything I hope to happen. This is where I'll give you the full story. This is where I no longer have to hold anything in. This is where I finally let it all go. This is where I write.

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1. Sun in the Philippines, rain in England

    It’s funny to think that you’re most likely soaking up the sun while the rain violently hits the pavement. I never expected you to go; one day you were a 15 minute drive away and now you’re on the other side of the world – pretty faraway for me to reach. It hasn’t hit me just yet that you’ve left, but I have acknowledged that it is something that I will one day have to come to terms with. You may be only gone for three weeks this time round, but next time it’ll be 3 months...or maybe more. I was so excited to see you again and now I probably will never see the smile I can’t help but reciprocate or the eyes I try to avoid so I won’t get too caught up.

    Maybe I’ve read the whole story wrong. Maybe I am being a love struck teenager. Maybe you never did look at me that way. Maybe I should never have looked at you that way.

    The rain has become the soundtrack to my sorrows, whereas the sun has become the gleam in your footsteps. The rain drowns me though the sun makes you brighter. The rain washes me away but the sun allows you to do what you always should do – shine.

    It feels as if it were yesterday that we met – I can hardly believe that it was more than a year and a half ago now. You could tell that night was special; it never snows in this area. I’d never seen the snow much before then, nor had I ever felt that way about someone.

     I should’ve told you how I felt - I should tell you how I feel. But after all this time I’ve convinced myself that if you wanted to talk to me, then you would. I’ve grown tired of waiting for you if nothing is going to happen and I don’t want to worry about someone who barely knows me. It’s too late.

    Reading is a passion of mine, but you’re too hard to read. You noticed me as I entered a room, yet never showed much more interest in me. You knew things about me I didn’t know you knew, but you still acted as if I were a stranger to you. Maybe humans aren’t meant to be read, but instead to write.

     Then I hope you write. Write and love and live. Because one day you’ll look back and notice all the mistakes in ink you made, of which, I hope, are few. And if this is to be the last thing you hear from me, I want you to know that I’ll regret not speaking up when I should’ve done. I’ll regret not telling you I loved you when I did...when I do.

    I don’t know how I feel about you anymore. I know it’ll never happen between us, but something keeps me holding onto nothing. When you’re in love and you’re the happiest you could ever be, all you’ve ever imagined, and although I would’ve moved on, a part of me will always be waiting for you. And if I never get to know what love is actually like, then I want you, above anyone else, to know. You deserve it.

    The rain has finally stopped, but it’ll never stop pouring – not for a while at least. I hope you bring the sunshine back with you though; I hope your days are filled with beautiful ones.

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