How do I even begin this letter without sounding depressing? Without (unconsciously) guilting you into feeling sad for me even though all of this is just the consequences of my decisions?

        I have wasted five minutes thinking of a lighthearted opener but I think that's not possible? I'll just go ahead and say my piece.

        It's the morning of my second Christmas without you and uh. . . I woke up in sweats 25 minutes ago. Hindi naman ako binangungot. No, my dream was far from a nightmare. I dreamt about you. About us. I dreamt about the night I broke up with you.

        It was just so vivid. Parang nando'n ako ulit sa harap mo. The only difference was that in my dream, I was an outsider. Like a part of the audience witnessing an intentional car crash caused by the driver herself. (In other words, a suicide. Lol.) Anyway, feeling and being an outsider did not really lighten the weight of watching myself commit to a lifetime of guilt. Mas bumigat pa nga sa pakiramdam. Lol.

        I felt hopeless. Plus, the fact that I was an outsider made me see everything.

        I saw your smile slowly fade. I saw how you continuously swallowed. How your fingers trembled, your knees buckle. . . I saw how your tears form in the corner of your eyes. I saw them fall and graze that mole slightly below your left eye.

        Needless to say, I witnessed the exact moment I broke your heart. The exact moment you realized that I decided I could live without you.

        But you're the subject of this letter again so. . . the joke's on me, right? Haha.

        Anyway, uh. . . I actually wanted to greet you a happy Christmas or at least, a gentle one. I'm meeting Malie in an hour so I think I'll be fine. (Not that I'm assuming you care.) Oh, right. Malie's my best friend. Yes, people don't hate me that much anymore. And I don't remember if I mentioned it but. . . I have been running a café with Malie for a while now.

        It's been okay so far. I think we're doing okay for a new, small business. Dad decided to fund the lease for the first year. He also bought some furniture and machines just to "get us going." His words, not mine. Lol. I know you're probably going to raise your brows or scrunch your nose upon reading this but. . . I had to accept his help.

        I just think he's slightly feeling guilty about me desperately looking for Mom behind his back.

        And I, too. I also felt sorry after seeing his face the night he fetched me at the airport. And I do want to apologize but. . . (This is going to make me sound bad.) I am a bit relieved to see him act so nervous and mad and fidgety that night. It was nice to see him care so openly about me – his only daughter.

        God. Please don't love me less after reading this. Not that I think you still love me after the shit I put you through. Haha. That was too much of a request, right? Never mind that. Where was I?

        Ah, the café.

        It's a good distraction, to be honest. So when Dad offered to shoulder the lease for the first year, I agreed in exchange for dating some of his partners' sons. Anyway, the café is giving my life a bit of direction. There's just something nice and unexplainable about starting something that's (partly) mine. (Just "partly" because Malie owns half of it.)

        Oh, I actually know how to make an Americano now. Apparently, you just press some buttons now. Ilalagay na lang 'yong beans. There's little to no skill involved. . . but I only had the time to learn yesterday. Shame on me, right?

        Anyway, just as I was about to celebrate making my own cup of Americano yesterday, Dad's assistant showed up. May dalang beans saka machines. I thanked her, of course, but deep inside. . . I was feeling lots of things.

        I was sad and angry because I somehow felt disappointed that it wasn't him who showed up. . . which did not really make sense. After all, as I mentioned, it was an unexpected visit. Does that make sense? Do I make sense? Anyway, that made me wonder if the reason behind my commitment to the café was another one of my ploys to get his approval.

        I doubted everything I told you earlier – about the café giving me and my business degree a purpose.

        I also started to wonder whether my commitment to the café was just me subconsciously trying to prove that my decision to hurt us – to hurt you – could actually result in something positive. That my decision could actually be fate, the universe, or God's way to nudge me towards the best version of myself.

        But who am I kidding, right?

        This is not my best version.

        Going back to me processing my issues with my Dad. . . I realized the answer to my own question. I realized that yes, it is possible to feel lots of things at once.

        I feel lots of things whenever I think of you. Before, they were mostly positive but now. . . haha. (You can laugh. We both know that it's laughable how pathetic I sound everytime I try to joke about feeling bad. . . despite knowing full-well that this is because of my own doing.)

        But hey, if it makes you feel better, I admit.

        (Consider this my Christmas gift for you.)

        I admit to feeling angry at myself for making that stupid decision. I admit that it was stupid. I admit that my reasoning was flawed. I admit to how I always – always – feel guilty right after being angry.

        I admit I am regretting everything. I admit that this morning, I didn't just wake up in sweats. I woke up in tears. . . but I wiped them off immediately. It just didn't feel right to still cry about us after two (?) years.

        There's just no point in crying. Wala naman na.

        Anyway, I should get ready for work. Please don't feel sorry for me. You shouldn't feel sorry for me. I actually like the mundane now. I'm slowly becoming comfortable with the fact that you are no longer a part of my mundane; my routine.

        Remember when we would meet in front of the Fine Arts Building just to chat while drinking two cups of hot chocolate from the vending machine? God, I miss that. Those were simpler times, right? By the way, uh. . . I hope this is not too much to ask but since I sort of gave you a Christmas present. . . can I ask you something?

        Did you look back that night?

        Not that it matters anymore but. . . I did. There. I just thought you should know (for some reason). Anyway, uh, please don't mind my question.

        I should get ready for work.

        Uh. . . this might be the last letter for now. As therapeutic as this is, it also tolerates my wallowing. Haha. Baka bumalik na lang ako sa overworking bilang coping mechanism. Lol.

        Anyway, because this could possibly be the last letter I will ever write to you, let me confess one last thing.

        Everyday, I carry you with guilt and regret.

        And love.

        I wish you a gentle Christmas, Lee.