Finally, you could be the one.

by Evans Yonson

Barcelona – Ever since I came back to Barcelona in November 2008, I have always felt that you have always been there silently reading and watching my every move. It’s not that you’re stalking me or what but I have always felt your presence in my midst. The universe conspired with me when I asked that I come back and fulfill a promise to finally meet you here.

What’s taking you so long to tell me that you’re reading this blog? I don’t want you to be just a statistics of my blog. Nor a random bypasser who didn’t mean to click on this blog but still found it. Why do you remain to be mysterious? I want to hear from you. I have been reading your blog too. But somewhere between the lines of your blog I could read that I am there but you continually deny my presence in your existence.

First of all, I am open about everything. My openness could lead me two ways: the common and well-trodden street (which is immensely boring) and the road less-travelled (which is definitely the most exciting). When everybody else went abroad, I stayed and took all the chances in the world to know my country very well. I can rightfully claim that I am a Filipino and I know my country inside and out, from north to south. Sometimes travelling my road can be lonely and this is where you enter into the picture.

Living for the day. Worries far away. Our last summer.

Most of the time, people mistake me for someone not serious about relationships. I have been trying to get into it really and wholeheartedly but to no avail. A friend would be banging my head if he reads this blog about you. I know it will come. But that’s beside the point. As a traveller, I take everything as a risk and I still view myself as a traveller of that road less-travelled. I don’t want to pass by you, by that road. I want to travel with you. I want you to travel with me. Would you travel with me? I’m hoping against all hopes that you will. But I guess you have your ways that makes you a lot mysterious to me and that challenges me even more.

I was so happy we had met. It was the age of no regret.

When I finally got to know you, I knew that somewhere in the deep recesses of my being that I like you. Liking is a very relative word. It could mean a lot of things knowing that we come from different cultural background, different upbringing, and most especially that thing they call sexual preferences. Can’t we be more than just friends or maybe bestfriends without the prejudices that came with my being? When I go to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how you are doing now. I simply couldn’t. Damn!

I can still recall. Our last summer. I still see it all. Laughing in the train. Our last summer. Memories that remain.

I left last summer to venture into my unfulfilled dream. I made everything happen and came out very successful. Another road less-travelled conquered. I met someone along the way which proved to be nothing short of an infatuation. His loss, not mine. You’re not my road that I need to travel on. Let’s travel a new road together, where no one else dared to travel it with you, but me.