Unsent Letter: Why Good Fridays Hurt So Bad

Troyka Lunar

April 2, 2021

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  I am writing this letter to you today, the 3rd day of April, Good Friday of 2015.

  How are you? I wanted to ask you a lot of things. I got messed up over what happened, and I don’t know how to pull myself together. Moving forward has become very hard because I don’t even know where to start. That’s why I am sending this message to you six years from now; the 2nd day of April, Good Friday of the year 2021. Maybe by the time you are reading this, you already have the answers.

  What happened? I was already accepting what I was feeling. I was finally admitting to myself that I have fallen in love with you. You were my first love. I have built my walls so high that I never really let anyone else in. But you, you found your way that easy.

  Things started to get different, and I had to choose between leaving you or staying. But instead of letting me go, you asked me to stay. I love you very much despite knowing that I have nothing to hold on to but the thought of me just being special to you. My walls were so high, but I was willing to settle with just whatever it is that you can give because I love you that much. An uncertain relationship was not an issue for me despite the pain, because at that time, there was only one thing I know is certain. I love you, and I can accept the pain of having you around rather than not having you at all.

  And then you said you love me, too. You are in love with me, but there were inhibitions. But since I was already madly in love with you, I settled. When you said, “I love you but,” I replied with “But, I love you.” We made it work. Our happiness was incomparable. We passed the boundary of being friends to more than that; we had so much fun, fights, and make-up. You were my default, and I was yours too. We were almost there, or so I thought.

  One day, everything was just not the same. You felt different. I started to notice that you are slowly drifting away. When we are together, I feel like you are very far. I am unaware of what happened. Did I say something wrong? Was it something that I did? Did I do something that made you uneasy? Is there someone else? Days and weeks had passed, and the next thing I knew, you were already gone. You stopped answering my messages and started ignoring my calls. There were lots of questions. I need to know what happened. I tried to find it myself, and so I did.

  Today, I had the answer; I found the answer. It was not me; it was not my fault. There was no other woman; because today, I found out that I was the other woman. I called you. You picked up the call but, you never said a single word. I had a lot of questions but, I never had any answer. Until I was down to my last question, “Did you love me?” There was a long pause and before you hung up, you responded with, “I tried.”

  I froze. My heart stopped. I could not breathe. It felt like someone crushed my heart into million pieces. I wanted to know what happened. Why did you do that? Isn’t your girlfriend enough? Did I beg you to love me back? I remembered telling you that I will be detaching myself from you. But didn’t you ask me to stay? Why? Now, I know I messed up. I questioned everything that we’ve shared. I wanted to understand. If you really just tried to love me, then why did it feel real?

  Now, I am sending this message to you six years from now; the 2nd day of April, Good Friday of the year 2021. Maybe by the time you are reading this, you already have the answers. But maybe by then, I won’t need an answer anymore. I guess I just really want you to know exactly how I felt when you left me.

  Maybe I just want to get even with you by making you remember me every Good Friday and how my heart died the same day that Jesus was dying. I want you to know that when Easter Sunday comes, I will be celebrating Jesus’ rising from his death while grieving the loss of my heart. I want you to remember me this way so that no other girl will be mourning the death of her own heart when she was supposed to be mourning Jesus’ death.

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