Written by Valerie Valenzuela

To a dear friend I never gave comforting words to,

You know me. You know how I prefer to sit at the back, minding my own business. You know how I hesitate to approach anyone.

I was busy savoring my solitude when you found me and took a seat on my right. Then and there, you cried. I neither asked you nor told you anything. Yet.

All I could do was hold your hand and pat your back. I need not ask the reason why. I already knew. I did not want to force you to share and confront the problem with me. It would be like spitting it to your face.

But I still wanted to ask you despite being too slow in taking chances.

I let you. It is good to cry.

I wanted to tell you that everything is going to be okay, that we should still have faith, and that there is always a next time. But I chose not to.

I, myself, ceased believing. The truth is things will not get better in time; it is you who must get better in time.

I could not bear to talk to you about optimism when it did not work for me. That would be ironic.

Instead, I told you about my insecurities. I let you peek at some of my demons. I knew this is not enough to make you feel less alone. But I tried.

The thought made me sad because I knew how it feels. It was bitter to know I was a failure in comforting you.