It was the night of December 14, 2011 when I wrote something for a boy. I posted it on my Tumblr, and immediately Googled "how to origami heart" right after. On a piece of colored paper I absolutely thanked the universe for letting me find in my little sister's drawers, I wrote the post's link. I remember spending a considerable amount of time deciding which color among my collection of metallic pens to use.
Yes, that's me, having a smitten mental breakdown that's probably borderline gross to most people. Didn't care though. On pure whim, I was determined to execute a small-scale surprise for this person who was once, and very briefly, so special to me. The obsessive compulsive neurotic mess in me perfected the origami heart. I remember giving it a little kiss good luck before going to bed that night. I didn't need to tell you that, but what the hell, right? I'm sharing anyway. Might as well bare all.
The critical part of the plan was to slip the origami heart in his pocket without him knowing, so he would discover it by the time he got home. I distinctly remember over analyzing everything about this step. I couldn't put it in his front pocket, because, first, it'd be too difficult to be sneaky from the front, and second, he might reach into his front pockets for his phone or whatever else and the heart would be prematurely discovered! FAIL. Clearly, the backpockets were the way to go, but I knew I had to make sure not to put it in the wallet pocket, or the heart might fall if he ends up pulling his wallet out. Gaaaahhh, I was a panicky mess.
Throughout the night, I kept waiting for the perfect ninja moment to slip the paper heart in his empty back pocket. Towards the end of the night, just when I was about to give up, I saw him drop a P20 bill. My heart shot up to my throat. "Hey, you dropped a twenty." Because he was carrying our picnic basket (You'll understand in a bit), I had every reason to put the bill back in his pocket for him... paper heart included. Mission accomplished! I felt so espionage! Suave like an infatuated James Bond girl.
The boy brought me home. In nervous anticipation, I waited for him to let me know he got home alright. I told him to check his pockets. He texted me, "You sneaky woman." I remember throwing myself onto my bed and digging my face into my pillows in utter kilig and holy shit he's reading it kill me now. He read this:
It’s the night before the outdoor movie you invited me to, and I don’t know exactly why I’m overly preparing for it. It’s a public picnic. What the hell am I supposed to be fussing over when half the people there will be sitting on newspaper and snacking on food packed in styrofoam. But, whatever, I let myself fuss anyway. I rummaged through my family’s junk to unearth a mat and a woven basket, stole one of the softer blankets from the linen closet, and tied red twine around spoons and forks. The twine was totally unnecessary, I know, but tying little ribbons helped me calm down a little bit.
As I’m writing this, I’m not entirely sure the food I have lined up in my head and on tomorrow’s grocery list will work out. All I know is it involves cake. Cake is sweet. Just like you are to me. Okay, that was lame, but screw it, it’s the truth. I also have no idea what to wear yet. I’m always torn between dressing up nice for you, or dressing like I’m not out to impress anyone. I do wanna impress you though. I just haven’t quite figured out how yet.
Hell, I’m not even sure about the weather tomorrow. If it rains, then I guess it’s a sign picnics aren’t for me. See, I’ve never been on a picnic. I’m hoping tomorrow night would be my first, and I’m giddy at the thought of sharing a mat with you under the stars. If it rains right in the middle of everything though, I’m hoping it’d happen just like in movies, with my hand in yours as we run for cover. Those are the kind of scenes Taylor Swift writes songs about.
I don’t even know how you’re reacting while reading this. You could be creeped out, or you could be laughing. There are so many things I’m not sure of, really.
I’m pretty sure meeting you was one of the best things that happened to me this year, and the more time I get to spend with you, the more I know for sure you’re good for me. We could be infatuated today, and strangers tomorrow, but right now I want to revel in the certainty I feel around you.
I’m thanking you ahead for a wonderful night. That’s something else I’m sure of. Picnic or no picnic. :)There you have it - my small-scale surprise for someone who was once special. We were infatuated then. Strangers today.
It's actually been a couple of months since we became strangers, but for some reason, today I remembered him and realized how much of a waste a failed attempt at romance turned our friendship into. Is it so wrong that I wanna reach out and tell him I wanna be friends again? I'm not after anything. I just want us to stop being strangers. No, I'm not heart-broken. I'm just in a state of panghihinayang.
I made a paper heart. Those things aren't built to last, and I should've known, but I still made that paper heart. It'd be a shame to see it go to waste. I hope one day I'll find the courage to fish it out of the past. It'll probably be tattered and torn around the edges. It might not even look like a heart at all anymore, but I'll always remember what it was. I'd dust it off and tell him, "Hey, remember this? What do you say we turn it into something different?" I don't think figuring out an origami friendship would be too hard.