For A Boy

His name was Thomas. And I just found that out a couple of days after I noticed I’m not seeing him anymore. Early in our shift today, on my station’s pc, I pulled up some stored files to see if someone with his name still exists in our company.  I entered his first name, his last, both and it gave me the same information: that a person named Thomas (last name deleted) works somewhere on this planet, just not in this country. Then it dawned on me. He doesn’t work in our office anymore.  Another man got away, and I am left with so many what ifs, again.

Back in 3rd grade, I first fell in love with a boy. I have to italicize the term since I believed in it, then. God, I even believed in fairies. Not that I am one, but, at that time I actually thought one day I’d wake up and turn into a girl. I imagined, when that happens I‘ll run to Alfie and tell him how I felt for him no matter how embarrassing it would’ve been. That day didn’t happen, of course and I’ve given up on hoping it would still come.

Alfie. That was that boy’s name, the most probable reason why the song of the same title means so much to me. He never really knew me. In his eyes, then, I was just another kid from another section who he’d smile at, once in a while, not out of any particular interest but of politeness.

A year after that, I lost him. I didn’t see him, anymore. I remember being so excited to go to school on the first day of my 4th grade, hoping to see him somewhere in a group of kids he usually played with, a year before. I didn’t find him. And I didn’t have the courage to ask anyone from his classmates where he was, I mean, who would, in my situation? I couldn’t even admit I was gay then. I found out that his family transferred to Manila and that they were to stay there for good. I was devastated. Imagine a nine- year old sexually confused kid feeling devastated with no one around to share his agony to.

Then, a year after that I went to the same school. On the first day of classes, I still hoped he’d be there but he wasn’t. For years he has been the subject of my longings. For years, I looked at the sky every two o’clock in the afternoon just to recreate his image. Just to make sure I remember every detail of his face and talk to him as though his image responds. And I made sure nobody saw me or else they’d think... I don’t even know if i can imagine what they would’ve thought of me.

Now it’s happening again. And I don’t like it. Well, somehow, I do but it’s painful. Although you grow and become stronger because of it, you’d sometimes wish it wasn’t there. You’d sometimes wish you can take away every experience in life you’ve had that caused you pain. Sometimes. You only wish for it sometimes because you know it cannot be granted.  Pain is part of life. Instead of letting it tear you down, might as well use it to create beautiful things; thus, the birth of authentic art and artists. I’d have to say losing Alfie made me an artist. He made me compose and sing songs. He made me love music enough to believe I’d not last on this earth this long without it. And I would never listen to Linda Ronstadt’s You Go to My Head and, Dionne Warwick’s Alfie the same way had I not met and lost this boy.

Fifteen years after I met Alfie, came Thomas. Now that I’m 24, I find it odd that I’m back in the same situation and am tortured by the same feeling. Here’s this guy again. We never talked; we didn’t have common friends; I never even knew his name. I just looked at him, often from afar. Never made a move to let him notice me. Never did because I know it’s futile to do so, even if deep inside I’m hoping to still have a chance of having him look at my direction and feel the same way as I do towards him. I was in love with him in my 3rd grade sense of the word, at least. But he’s gone, now. It’s time to start composing songs and writing poems about him. It’s time.

Thomas’ leaving left me with the what ifs that haunted me for years after I lost Alfie. I must have loved the pain it caused me so much to let this happen again.