To the one who came when I gave up searching,

It has been more than two months since we've crossed paths, again. You're not a stranger. We've known each other from almost two decades ago already. I vividly recall your stance, your gaze towards my way, and even your favorite song to sing with your heart out: Simple Plan's Perfect. I believe I haven't told you this, but whenever I heard that song from that day forward, I just couldn't help but fondly remember you. Not to mention that the first-ever love letter I received in my life was actually from you. That cute little handwriting of yours and the sincerity in your message, though we're still so young back then, were the main reasons I just couldn't forget that at one point in my life, there's that 11-year-old you who admired me dearly.

You know it's amazing how fate works, right? Who would have thought that someone whom I haven't talked to (not even once) in the past will be significant in my present? It still feels surreal how our 'stars above' (yes, I'm quoting your original song) intertwined for us to meet again. This time is just different, since we're in our late-20s already, backed with experiences that made us stronger and wiser than ever.

Once I wished that I should've gotten to know you sooner. However, I realized that this is the best version of ourselves. We might not be as open, understanding, and caring as we are right now if we've stumbled upon our lives from years ago. While the current situation is not ideal because of the chaos and uncertainty brought by the global pandemic, I am still grateful that there's you amidst of it all.

So, let me express everything I've been bottling up for some time now.

Thank you for that reply to my Facebook story in late-January. You approached me differently with your intention of just acknowledging my struggle. If not for your courage to send that message, we wouldn't have the opportunity to unravel our genuine selves.

Thank you for speaking alongside your actions. You're not someone who would talk more and do less, or vice-versa. You do exactly as you say, without going overboard or missing out on simple details. You're not a "man of few words" whom you hoped sometimes that you are. And that's the beauty I see in you. When everyone else couldn't bring themselves to be clear with their intentions, you unveiled your affection to me at the right moment -- not rushed or delayed.

Thank you for patiently waiting. You've showed the essence of that word in every aspect of it. I appreciate the kind of waiting that you do when I'm experiencing mood swings either pre- or post-red days. You see to it that I get to vent out what I'm feeling, regardless if it's the hormones that do the talking or my anxiety. You listen to every bit of what I say and also respect my silence. You acknowledge my principle of practicing self-care, even if it means that I wouldn't be able to respond to you at times. You do your best in offering solutions or comfort, while also knowing your boundaries. Thank you for not overextending yourself when I tell you that I can manage.

Thank you, finally, for being present in my life when I least expected it. I remember writing a blog in December hoping to meet someone who will not only accept my temperaments, but will also do his best to embrace them, and so on. You told me that it's your favorite, and that you keep on reading it repetitively. Did it ever cross your mind that the piece you ended up loving will eventually resonate to you? That "to whom it may concern" is now directed to you, Aaron.

I know you've been eager to reach this moment. I was just taking my time engaging with you, listening to your stories and songs (which I really love), and simply letting myself be awed with the person that you are and you're not.

Do you recall those times when you sing me to sleep and before you hung up the call, because you thought that I'm sleeping already, you'd whisper "I love you" not once, but thrice? How about hearing my response to it now?

(Manila Cathedral, February 2021, photo taken by yours truly.)