The Ruin Script

perhaps this is where i stop writing directly to you, though not the end of carrying you in my words. i just want to leave this here—honest and unfiltered, as it has always been.

do you still remember what happened on august 11? the teasing at the hallway near the entrance gate—miya, jomari, rey, deo, jonaiban, and kevin were there. i let our friends laugh at the thought of us, but for me it was a small fire i dared to light. that same day, i followed you again on instagram, after once unfollowing you with the rest i thought inactive.

later, you sent the screenshot of my follow notification to miya, and she teased you, “unhi pud.” but then you ended it with honesty—you said you were already interested in someone, and you didn’t want to give false hope. but it didn’t stop me; i still tried, in small, clumsy ways, just to keep a piece of your attention a little longer.

i mentioned you on my instagram note—a clumsy move, but it earned me your reply. i sent reels too, hoping to start a conversation. i was embarrassed, yes, but glad—it proved you could answer me, even if mostly in silence.

i asked miya if you are into anime, and she said yes. then i asked you directly: “ga anime ka, cy? unsa imong all time favorite na anime?” you said only attack on titan, which made me smile because i loved it too. i mentioned demon slayer, though you admitted you stopped at season one, found it boring. in my excitement, i flooded you with messages, only to be left with no reply. i wanted so badly to invite you to the cinema, especially when you mentioned it yourself—but i held back. i thought you might reject me, or feel uncomfortable. so i let the fire burn quietly on my side alone.

then, unexpectedly, on august 26, you chatted. i still remember the small rush when your message finally appeared after my connection struggled. it may have been ordinary, just passing a message, but to me it meant something—you remembered me.

i watched you quietly, even checked your facebook through deo’s account since mine was deactivated. that’s where i saw your posts, your music, the way you held your guitar. that’s when i began scribbling and wrote “you are the music.” i was glad when you liked my instagram story of it.

all of these—the teasing. the notes. the anime. the brief replies. the silence. even my clumsy persistence—i don’t regret any of it. i liked the chase, the quiet thrill of having a crush, even if it never became more. i am content. i don’t want to demand. just let me admire you in my own way.

so maybe this is the end of me writing to you, but not the end of you in my words. you will still appear, between the lines, in fragments, in metaphors. and if this ever reaches you, i hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. if it does, i will stop—because more than my feelings, i respect you as a person.

author’s note:
— bled by @achilleusdeirdre
— 30th of august, year 2025
— open to criticism; all echoes welcome.
— lowercase intended for signature writing.