The One You Choose Not to Love

He blissfully walks into the room.

The sight of him cheers you up like a kid seeing the first rays of sunlight after being forced to play indoors by the rain. You call his name and wave hi. He notices you and returns a hello. You smile. He smiles back. For a brief moment, you are awed by the spontaneity of things. Then you remember, he is the one you choose not to love, so just as quickly as you greeted him, you look away.

It is on days like this when you ask yourself: why can’t you alter how other people see you? Wouldn’t it be great if you could interchange how one acts toward you with another?

It is never fair to compare men, one your friends said. Each one of them is different.

You believe your friend.

Still, it never ceases to amaze you how easily you can begin a conversation with him, be it before class in the lecture room or after class in the library. You do not need to have something in mind to talk about; words flow naturally, as water would fill empty spaces when you spill it from a glass.

It is he who takes notice of your new hair style, your blooming appearance and your bright button-down polo. And although part of you wishes that somebody else remark on them too, you have to admit him taking notice completes your day nonetheless.

It is the one you choose not to love who cares for you as always and love you secretly. He is always there for you whenever you urgently need him. He is the one who write proses and stories about you. He who says hi when you fail to recognize him in the mall because you are in a hurry. He who listens to how you’ve struggled to find a nerve during departmental exams in accounting, only to accidentally cut it in the end. He who replies to your text messages, smileys included.

You never question why because you know the answer. He is your friend and he sees you as a friend. Of that you are certain.

And maybe because he is different.

You imagine the opposite scenario. What if, instead of being the one you choose not to love, he were the one?

It would simply be like interchanging the actors and actresses in a play, you tell yourself. The characters would still be the same, except different people would be portraying them. The scenes would be no different, and everything would end the way it originally should.

Then it dawns on you: men become different because of how you see them.

So you stop imagining and decide to approach him for love advice instead.

Because at the end of each day, after all the hi’s and the goodbye’s, you’re just glad that you are his friend and he is yours.

Friendship is a wonderful thing.