IN THE END.. [This Ain’t A Love Letter, Pt. 2]

“Do not think of my Love as old and tarnished, but constantly growing and renewing in its own midst. To this very day, I love you. I simply and truly do.” I still remember how I felt back when I wrote that part. I remember being filled with an overwhelming need to convey what I was feeling then, possibly for fear of the emotions escaping me, rendering me without a memory of that particular instant. And when it comes to you, Beng, I don’t ever want to forget. You are my rock. Always have been, always will be. With you around, I know it can’t be that bad. I know I can make it through whatever. Damn, I swore to keep this mush-free, but I just can’t help it. Now that you’re gone. 

They say it’s just one year, that it will simply fleet by, that you’d be back again before I know it. But all I know is I can barely get through the day without stopping in my tracks and clutching my chest at the thought of you being so far away. They say it just takes some getting used to, that I will be alright in no time. But I don’t want to get used to this. I can’t be alright like this. I don’t want us to become just another two people initially parted by distance and time and eventually by our own mutual desistance. 

I suppose all this blabbering is really just about me missing you so much like this. I never thought it could still be possible. That I’d go back to that same place from years before, when the mere thought of you could cut through my soul like nothing else could. That I’d once again feel lost without you. After all these years. After all those lovers after you. Love is one twisted dance, the steps to which I can’t ever seem to get right. Not without you. Tell me, why did we have to be apart the way we were? And why do we still have to be apart the way we are? 

Right now I’m flooded by memories of time spent with you and by reminders of time I could’ve spent with you. I don’t even care to think about other people. On your side or on mine. I’d rather think back on the time when it was just you and me, and everyone else was just instrumental to the story we were weaving together. I’d rather think back on that time when you sang to a crowd of total strangers about dreaming of being in love with me again, at a time when I was with someone new. And that same crowd slowly realizing that you were singing not to them but to someone standing right by the back door. And that someone being me. This way I am assured, even if only in the faintest of my recollections, that I’m still the one for you. Because you’re still the one for me. 

And while I've always told you that I’ve never stopped counting our years together, I now feel that it’s time I stopped. For I’ve realized that counting is only for things that are finite. And our love just isn’t so. That being said, I want you to know that I’ve come to a decision. Much like the one I made a few years ago. I’m staying put, at the same time braving it out alone. I can't promise to be right where you left me. After all, time has a way of moving us all in a thousand strange directions. But nevertheless, I'll be awaiting your return. Yes—no matter what it takes, or how long it takes—I’ll be waiting. For my Love will never get old and tarnished, but will keep on growing and renewing in its own midst. For, to this very day, I love you. I simply and truly do.

This Ain't A Love Letter

Much has been written and said about Love—how it begins, goes, ends, and comes full circle in due time. And being hapless novices falling deep and hard even before realizing so, we inadvertently accept what we are told as gospel truths.

We learn to believe that Love starts with a seemingly innocuous spark, then spreads like wild forest fire, consuming our very beings in such an indescribable rapture. We learn to believe that Love, like everything else, reaches a plateau where we must finally take control of and absolute responsibility for the things we do. We learn to believe that that same plateau must end in a steep precipice, upon which we must decide whether to give up or to fight on. We learn to believe that regardless of our choice, we must suffer tremendously, feeling immense pain and longing as though our souls were about to leave their earthly vessels, never to return. We learn to believe that in the darkness and gloom of the days that would follow, hope eventually springs forth, drops of sunlight trickling down from the roof of the empty cavern that has become of us.

Vivid and precise these accounts may seem to get, they simply pertain to a Love other than Ours; for no matter what they say, only we can tell whether what we have is indeed Love.

Having said all that, I want to let you know that I myself have found myself standing on the edge of that precipice, and I have now come to a decision: I am staying with you. But at the same time I would like you to let go. Of every notion you hold of me. Of every reason you have had for choosing to love me then. Of every memory of my quivering voice and the sweetness of my smile. Of the things I have and have not done for you. Just let it all go. For I am not the same person anymore, and neither are you. Unwittingly, we have both been transformed by the Love that we have been holding between us. We have changed in a thousand different ways until we started to doubt each other’s Love. I refuse to believe that that is the way it is supposed to go; I believe our changed selves only serve to remind us that we are also meant to evolve as a couple. So this I say to you: Do not think of my Love as old and tarnished, but constantly growing and renewing in its own midst. To this very day, I love you. I simply and truly do.

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