I Love You
I can’t tell you the exact day I met Kriselle Marie V. Santillan. I can’t tell you what she looked like on that day, what she wore, how she did her hair. I can tell you I thought she was pretty. I know this for a fact, because it is a fact that she is extraordinarily beautiful. I can tell you that the one of the first times we conversed she told me I should sing for our high school’s singing competition. I can tell you when we talked for the first time I thought she was one of the nicest people I had ever met. And gorgeous to boot.
Kriselle and I began dating on the 21st of September, 2011, around 4 or 5 in the afternoon. I wish I took note of the exact moment. I’ll always remember how nervous I was, my sweaty palms and stuttering words. When I close my eyes, I can see her on that day perfectly, with her green sweater, covered in saw dust, her hair tied in two pigtails, her eyes tearing up with joy. I thought she was beautiful, and I knew on that day, the moment she agreed to be my girl, that I loved her, truly, and that I did not want anyone else. I still don’t.
Our relationship, our undefined, tumultuous “friendship,” “bond,” or whatever else you could call it began months earlier, in April or May, at the end of our first year of university. I was there for her when no one else was, where I had been for the past 2 years, waiting, infatuated, for any opportunity to spend time with her, or get to know her. We grew closer and closer, pushing the boundaries of friendship to their limit till we could no longer really call ourselves that, yet at the same time, we weren’t dating. She was my “friend.” The quotation marks only partially inflect irony; we really were friends. Best friends. She is my best friend in the entire world, someone I can share my fears with, my hopes, my insecurities, my dreams. Someone I am totally at peace with, but continuously at ends with. I feel more myself with her than I am alone. When I’m with Kriselle, I feel both whole and infinite.
We first kissed on July 11th, 2011. I have to admit, it was sloppy, but that was completely my fault. My lips are far too large for their own good. She likes it though, apparently. I was elated that day; nothing could bring me down. Until a few weeks later, that is, when she told me she no longer wanted to be with me. She did this twice during that summer. Those two times, I can tell you, were the only two times my heart ever felt like it truly broke. I’ve experienced heartache before, sure, but compared to the pain I felt then, they were mere schoolboy bruises. She kept saying something along the lines of “this will only last the summer. After summer ends, everything will change.” It’s kind of sweet that the day we really began to fall in love on the last day of summer.
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BETTER WHEN WE'RE