The next time I fell in love, I started keeping things from them. They were all here, along with the pen Crimson gave me and Avi's moon necklace.

As I pulled out another item from the drawer, it felt light. As if they're not as important as the previous ones. Maybe because I wasn't afraid to lose them or I knew I would just leave them. At least, I still needed to keep something from them.

I hoped that one of these might yield something, a glimpse of our memories, a shard of time we spent together, a piece of their soul. But all their names, when or where we met, how long we've been together were all jumbled as if it's all one confusing dream.

Like a night of fun and frivolity overcome by parting regrets, a spree of mistakes. Piece by piece, I also gave myself to them until I've given everything and it's too late to go back. So why not go all out?

I remember there was a Tyson who said, "Stop, as long as you want," when I asked, "Can we stop?"

He kissed me on the forehead and assured me, "It is when we stop that you will realize how fast you were going and you would ask yourself, 'What have I been doing?'"

He didn't get what I meant.

I met Tyson somewhere in Campus, fourth year. He has an Ivy League haircut and he was an artist too. He has almond-shaped eyes, dark chocolate skin, and a dimple on his left cheek. His beetled brow knitted when he looked at his artworks from afar. He gave me one and I still kept it inside this drawer.

"Everything's going to be alright in the end, right?"

No, I think I said that to Ori.

"You think you can just forget people?" This, the one who said this was Tyson. Then I replied, "The thing is I never forget, I wanted to, but I can't."

"But that was just one mistake."

"Sometimes all it takes to lose someone is one mistake."

"Move on, Uly."

"I'm trying..."

"Just because of your unrequited love doesn't mean you'd treat all those who come next to it as trash you can throw away."

That was maybe the reason we didn't work out. I was immature in my part. But then I found out he's the one who couldn't move on from his past. After we broke up, he got back with his ex.

Glimpses. Someone also told me that, "Love is so precious," another memory, "If you find it again, please don't let it go." I wonder who said that again? 

I remember saying to myself, It might be because I've only learned to spend happiness on my own and now, I don't know how to spend it with someone else. I think I said that to William. Yes, there was a William.

I met him when I was filing an application in line. His hands were in his pockets singing, "Lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely, I have nobody."

Was it to tell me you're single?

His hair was a voluminous coif. He wore ritzy clothes which was quite an amusement to some and an earthy smell swirled around him.

I told him there was a high discount at the mall and I made him go there. But I only said that so we could meet each other and watch movies together. The rest follows.

I handed our tickets and the cashier tore them apart. I asked if I could keep it and she let me keep the other half. It was my first movie after the pandemic.

Later on, after fights and misunderstandings, he told me I was right. That all along I was only playing on his palm from the start. Maybe we're meant for each other maybe not. There was a lot of confusion and I knew we wouldn't last.

We only lasted six months and in that span of time, I learned that you can't manipulate a manipulator, he'd just manipulate you back.

There was also Sharmaine, yes. Sharmaine, who's afire with passion, and adventurous, and God, her gaze was as bright as lode stars. I was bewitched by it that a few women who charmed me could do. By their sparkle and mirth, they shone like two eternity-green jewels inwrought in nature.

I kept the receipt she gave me when she treated me to a grocery store, at four in the morning, to sober up. The thing about her was she'd always see right through me. That's what I liked about her and also hated because I wasn't the same. She was earth-to-sky honest, she even straight up told me I wasn't good at sex.

In the end she saw right through me that I wasn't happy anymore. That I was the type who couldn't risk believing in a love that lasts. Who deeply understands that people come and go.

At last, she's the one who broke up with me.

"It's been a pleasure," she said, sounding more like a lie as we shook hands.

But one more, I'll fall in love one more time, I said when I thought I was ready. Eventually, I met him. Christian. I already forgot his last name.

"I'm glad you're not those kinds of people," he said when we were wearing headphones in each ear, "Those people who slowed or remixed the songs they listen to."

"I learned to love the whole song," I replied. "Its entirety."

We met one night when my mom brought me to a party after my graduation. Right away, I loved him completely. He was much older than me and had a better style.

His hair was a faux hawk that created a subtle pompadour. He has sky rover-blue eyes that had the same startling clarity as a mountain stream and his Teutonic gold hair radiated energy and brio that the sun might be ashamed to come out. His crescent moon eyebrows were thin and narrow and that was what I first notice when I saw him in a magazine.

"Is this you?" I asked pointing at the picture.

"Not to brag but yeah."

"You're famous, why didn't you say so?

"You didn't ask."

That's what I like most about him, he's humble. He has the same casual attire that jumbled often neat and mostly flowing. From the start, I remember now, I adored his angular jawline and his Samson physique for a model. Samson was his last name.

When Christian walked by, he had an athletic grace as if he was gliding without skipping a beat. We clicked almost instantly. But I asked him, "Can we not have anything sexual until we're three months into our relationship?" He agreed.

But I was also the one who said I wanted not only to be seen, not only to be touched. I told him if you're going to love me, I want you to desire me. After three months, as per our deal, we made love. The best I had.

"What's your wish?" He asked, we were wrapped in blankets on my bed. I thought for a moment and said, "I wish we can go back to the time when we're scared of hurting ourselves and we're not thrifty of being happy." I slept for a while.

He was putting on his clothes when I woke up in the middle of the night. "I have work tomorrow," he said.

A tag on his pants was still attached. I reached to him, naked, plucked the tag and smooched it like sealing a letter with a lip mark.

We were happy and I thought this could be it. Sometimes my abandonment issues still strike. I tried to repress it but it turns out I didn't have to. Because like all good things do, it ended.

"You're getting married?" I remember asking, my heart, already in pieces, turned to dust.

 "When?"

"This spring." His eyes avoided mine.

"Why didn't you say so?" He looked up. "Oh, don't give me that," I retorted because he was about to give that you-didn't-ask canard.

"I needed an outlet before I tied myself to someone."

I was just an outlet? But what I asked was, "Do you love her?"

A pause and a yes.

"Then I will be happy for you," I said as my tears fell down.

We slept together for the last time that night and in his arms, he asked me, "Do you find more happiness in being loved or loving someone?"

"The latter."

"Then love me."

"I will."

"Even if we don't end up together."

"Even if," I repeated.

I guess this was what they call karma. All of this was part of my punishment for all the bad things I've done.

Christian and I stayed in touch just before he was married. It's the closest to closure I've ever gotten. With all my failed love attempts, at least I became more open. But when I meet wonderful men and women, I never committed to a relationship again. Some ended up getting tired of me and the rest were mere companions to ease my loneliness.

Because no matter how many times you reenact something, it's just not the same. I kept wanting to find that special someone but with each lonely day, I only began to question more and more what should I do, what am I doing wrong? When I knew I would only blame others for my own emotions and actions. Because I knew If I constantly paint myself as the victim, eventually, someone will come along and save me, and I will receive the love I've always wanted.

I wanted to apologize to the people who tried to enter my life but I kept the door closed until it wouldn't open. What if I couldn't open it again? What if I'll stay a broken piece that everyone is merely taking a look at but not actually fixing it? I couldn't stop thinking about him or her or anyone I've been with who might have loved me back. Then the worst, what if one day no one would come? 

I definitely deserve it.