Dear blog,

It's almost two am. I'm listening to the song playing as Dear John credits rolls. I feel...

I read Dear John few months back because my then girlfriend got me the book, even posted 100 (but in reality she gave me more than 100) reasons why she loves me--cheesy huh, but come to think of it, it's a feat on it's own.

I guess a part of me is guilty because I know when she got me that book and while I was reading it I had no one else in mind other than my then ex-girlfriend who left. My then ex-girlfriend, (we got back together after all, unsurprisngly) sent me a song and that song just replaced the Dear John background music which was playing a few seconds back. If I can type with my eyes closed, I think I would. The song's entitled The Only Moment We Were Alone by Explosions in the Sky. I love Explosions in the Sky. It's making me close my eyes and I feel haunted by her presence... everything.

When I realized my eyes were already closed and that I was somehow drifting away I checked to see through my iTunes player if she left a note on the file. We used to always surprise each other with song notes that would appear when we play the songs we send each other on our iTouch players. "Can you feel me?" she asked. Tears just fell, like my heart, when I fell in love with her.

The song's just plain piano, drums, rhythm, intensity but it's so complete and heavy that I felt crushed between the picture of me typing in the middle of the night (or dawn) and the picture of an us, holding hands, during the same time of day, some few weeks ago.

I miss her so much. Tonight made me think: Long distance relationships are not hard. They just get really really lonely...

Each note makes me imagine her silence. As the song concludes, I see her face when we held each other for the last time at the airport. It's so painful to recall. Whenever I remember how her eyes begged to stay, I feel so sorry I couldn't come along with her.

When she left, now that she's gone, I just keep on feeling left behind.


Remember to pack courage for lunch when you read Dear John for breakfast.