September 27, 2015 § Leave a comment
I closed my eyes shut, and the absoluteness of darkness engulfed me. I was too tired to think whether this is my own doing, yours or ours. The memory of you telling me that last time it was because “you (and her) always had arguments” keeps on coming back to me. Maybe you love me less anyway by this time because I’m always the one with a problem. The devil in me retorts with a “how would you know if he loves you, he rarely lets you know”. But my angel tenderly calms it with an “it’s okay, it doesn’t matter now.” “Nothing does”, I tell them both.
I’ve been seeing this coming. On those lonely nights that I watched you sleep with your back on me. And in those times I sat across you midway through a meal, looking at a different direction because you chose to look otherwise anyway. Those times that I wrote you a letter, just to toss in the sealed envelope to the bin. “He won’t like it, don’t be mushy”, I reprimand myself. I tried to learn the art of self-regulation for you. And in no time I resorted to taking screenshots every time I came across romantic quotes that gripped my soul. Screenshots that I wanted to send to you, but will just pile up in the limbo of my phone. I tried to maintain the distance you wanted, but it left me lost as to why I couldn’t go closer. Is this still love? Because the only way i know is way past this border. I sneaked in sometimes in defiance, like a refugee or an illegal immigrant. Seeking mercy or daring to show bravery. And after what I had wanted to do, I returned back into my boundary voluntarily. Sometimes, you sent me back. I followed like an obedient dog, ready to do anything in want of your favor.
In your defense, you were nice. You were really nice. I fell in love with you because of that. You took me places, gave me kisses, and took me inside your world. But it wasn’t enough for me. I needed your heart and soul. I needed to know that you loved me and why you loved me. I needed unexpected hugs from behind and handwritten letters scribbled in the dead of the night. I needed to know that I matter. If this is too much, then I am guilty. I am fully guilty of not knowing what a proper relationship is. I am impractical in a brutally practical world. And if this is all there is to what I thought love would be, then I am admittedly ill-equipped.
I lost this battle. And you just let me.