Lost

This is Vito. I decided to call him Nathaniel on the first few days we were together but then I came across the name Vito and called him that since then.

zxcv

I lost him on the last week of January. Actually, I’m not sure of the day and time of its disappearance because it was already the first few days of February when I noticed he was gone. I tried looking for it in the four corners of my room but I just cannot see it. It felt like losing a love one and not being able to say good bye. I hate good byes. Hate is such a strong word, I know, but it’s how I feel.

I may sound stupid right now because I’m referring to a phone as a person. I used he instead of it. Sometimes I wish that my sister didn’t send her old iPhone to me. So that I won’t have to let go of my phone. I didn’t even let go of it. My mom was asking if she can use it but I didn’t give it to her. The phone had so much sentimental value. It was a gift from Mama for my 18th birthday. I didn’t get to have a party for my debut so instead I asked for that. And it was what I was holding on to just so I can be fine without a party.

The one thing I feel bad the most about this is that I left it in my room. I left it on my table because I thought, “might as well leave it here instead of having it in my bag. Who knows, it might get stolen from me if I bring it all the time.” And then, poof! Gone.

Good byes never felt good. It’s one of my problems. I can’t say good bye to some memories even if they happened years ago. I can’t say good bye to some old stuff because “they might still be good in the future.” Everything has value. Everything has to be with me still. I even have a hard time saying good bye to TV series and characters I love so much.

One Tree Hill, Nathan and Haley Scott, Shane from the Walking Dead, my old jersey shorts (it was my best bet for my volleyball memories,) an old best friend who had been so happy with her new friends, a small ball I lost when I was younger during a heavy rain while I was playing with it in our garage, a friendship that had been dead long since but I still try to revive.

The real reason why I’m writing this is because I want to formally say good bye to something I gave so much value to. I just really wish I know where it is. That whoever stole it would go to me and tell me that he or she got it. I wouldn’t be mad or anything. I wouldn’t shake with rage. I just want to know that it’s gone. That I don’t have to look for it. I want the nagging feeling inside me to finally go away. That I don’t have to look forward to finding it and hoping. The truth, that’s what I need.

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