To The Boy Who Loves Quietly

Your love is not a bouquet of roses adorned with Ferrero Rocher chocolates. It’s not Saturday date nights, a table reserved for two at a fancy restaurant. It’s not a grand public display of affection. It’s not for everybody to see. It’s not for everyone to know. But it’s mine to keep.

Your kind of love is quiet. It’s a simple message in the morning, and one in the night, and sometimes an ‘I’m thinking of you’ in the middle of a busy day. It’s the endless talks of nothing and everything. It’s the same shared sense of humour, from the small chuckles to the loud belly laughs. It’s the talk that lasts until morning yet feels like minutes. It’s when you let me ramble on and on about my day with you looking at me and listening to me like I’m the most interesting person on earth. It’s the talks of the future which normally scares me, but with you it feels only natural to. It’s when you reminding me to take care of myself but me hearing it as an honest I love you.

Your love crept up on me unwittingly that I just woke up one day and found myself looking at you with brand new eyes. You never forced that love on me. As we talked and spent time together, you were planting that love like a flower seed and everyday, you watered it with care and allowed it to bloom in the right time. You waited until I could feel that flower blooming inside my heart, forcing me to recognize it as what it was. It may have taken some time, it may have been slow, but it was the kind of love that is anything but selfish. And I’d choose it everyday.

Your love is something people would feel whenever they see me with you. It’s something they wouldn’t always see, but something they would always know. It’s something they wouldn’t notice at first, but would eventually realize in each of the subtle ways we show each other that love: the unconscious holding of hands, the long understanding stares, whispers of I love you, our inside jokes, the way we say each other’s name. It may seem like it’s not but it’s always there.

It’s not a lightning bolt that struck me out of my consciousness. It’s not my heart beating fast, as if it would come right out of my chest. It’s not when I see you, I am left breathless. Instead it’s like this: when I’m with you I feel relaxed, safe, and cared for. And most especially, I am sure.

You see, I’m almost never sure of anything but when it comes to you, I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that what we have can last.

It will last…at least for as long as it shall.

Unsent Letter: 03

You asked me if I'm tired. I asked you what kind of tired. You said, "Of me." I told you no, I'm not. But this is what I didn't tell you:

I am not tired of you. But I am tired of constantly feeling like I can't reach you. I am tired of constantly battling for your attention. I am tired of trying to come up different ways and topics, of convincing you that you can tell me absolutely anything, just so we can have an actual conversation, and not just mindless, pointless ones. Like actually talk to me damn it! Talk to me about your feelings, your emotions, your life! Let me get to know you better.

I am tired of always putting in the effort, of always the one asking, of always the one waiting. I am tired of always the one feeling like I'm never enough. I am tired of always trying to guess what you're feeling, of what is in your mind, because you don't tell me anything unless I ask. And sometimes even when I do, you still avoid giving me an answer.

I am tired of feeling like I am the one who should do everything. I am tired of always the one appreciating. I am tired of being not the priority. I am tired of the mediocrity.

So yes, I am tired. And I am trying so hard to hold on because I don't want to get tired of loving you.

Unsent Letter: 01

It sickens me to read them all. My stomach drops with each letter I read.
I feel insecure. I feel like my heart is being ripped apart with every love you had shown her; with every similar words you have said to her, that you're saying to me too. And yet I continue scrolling down. I keep reading your posts to each other. I keep looking at photographs I wish doesn't exist because it makes everything real; because no matter how much I want to deny them, they serve as your memories. But I continue looking anyway, knowing full well that what I'm doing only gives me a self-inflicting pain. I never knew I'd become a masochist.

I wish I could delete them all. I wish I could delete her. But I can't go back to the past and undo everything. If I could, given the things that i know now, I'd  redo so many things. I'd never let you go that first moment we met. But I am no superwoman. I can't do that. So now, I am left with no other choice but to try and ignore these unwarranted insecurities I feel.

Still, I can't deny the fact that it's killing me. It's killing me how I absolutely know that I'm never going to be able to compete with what you two had. She gave you many firsts that you may again experience with me but I know it won't feel as amazing as what you felt with her. And the thought that you may be happy with me now but still it can't compete with the happiness you felt before makes me very sad. Almost depressed.

I won't be able to fill the hole she left in your heart...or will I? But...am I just that then? A filler? Someone you need to fill in that emptiness. Or am I greater than the love you felt for her?

What am I to you? What's my role? Who am I supposed to be when I'm with you? Because no matter how much I don't want to feel this, I feel like a replacement, and it sucks so much. So. fucking. much.

What It Feels Like To Be Jealous of Your Ex

Knowing that she had you first is filling me up with a crazy sense of insecurity that I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m so jealous of your past. I wanted to be the one who gave you those sweet memories, but you knew her first. What was I supposed to do?

I don’t know her. You don’t talk about her either, save for that one time. But you didn’t say anything that much, only that she cheated on you so you two broke up. But the bitterness I heard in your voice didn’t escape me and it only added to the nagging mystery that’s already surrounding this girl you fell first.

Who is she? What was she like? What was it about her that you fell hard for? What was it about her that had captivated you so? Why was she different from any other girls? I want to ask these questions. I want you to tell me what made you decide then that you wanted to build a family with her considering you have a child together. I want to ask you these so that I will know where I’ll place myself. So that I’ll know what separates me from her. So that at least my mind can stop giving me these questions and for my heart to stop beating with bitterness and self-doubt.

Because I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to feel any of this. I don’t even know her. She doesn’t have a clue of who I am. But I still couldn’t stop myself from feeling so insecure. I cannot stop myself from comparing us. I cannot stop from constantly wondering why you chose me after her.

I don’t question your love for me. I can feel that it’s true; otherwise I wouldn’t have given you a chance. However, I can’t help but question the weight of that love. I know, I am aware, that she and I are two different people and that I shouldn’t even start comparing. The only thing we have in common is you. But you can’t blame me. You two had a perfect life together. She loved you. She bore your child. What if one day she realizes that she wants you back? That she wants your family to be complete again? You cannot make me stop from worrying about that because that’s a possibility.

I’m usually a wise person. I don’t worry so much. I don’t overthink about things I have no control over. So why am I being like this? Is this how it feels like to be jealous of your ex? This is ridiculous. And yet…it’s here.

I hate this irrational fear of losing you over to someone you once had. This isn’t me. This. Is. Not. Me. But this is me right now. What am I doing to myself? What are you doing to me? Why am I so jealous when you’re not even giving me something to be jealous about? I am crazy. I’m losing my mind.

This is just the kind of thing love does to people. And I hate how I can’t seem to hate love in all of its flaws.

Don’t let go. I have so many issues and insecurities but I promise I am trying my best to fight them off, and with you holding my hand I’m a lot stronger.

Don’t let go even if I push you away. Especially if I push you away. Because that’s when I’m most vulnerable and broken that I want everyone to leave me so they can’t see how damaged I am.

Don’t let go even if I say I hate you. I don’t. You’re holding my hand. You’re helping me. Why would I hate you? That’s just me saying I need you. That’s me saying hold me closer.

So please be patient with me. I know I’m being selfish. I know I don’t deserve you. I know you’re too good for me. I would let you go if you want. I won’t stop you. But you have me as long as you want me and I’d take what I can get.

I need you, even just to breathe. I don’t know if that’s healthy but it is for me. I need you because no one else had held my hand like you do. I need you because with you I’m better. I need you because you are my light.

I just…I love you and if that’s wrong then I don’t want to be right.

Love comes slow and goes so fast
It stays as long as it wants but it never lasts
For love is fleeting; you don't see it everyday
But once it's there, it never really goes away.

Love will heal you but it will pain you first
People think of it and always expects the worst
But if you feel that your love is true, don't hold it back
Put your heart out there and pray for good luck.

But love is not suitable for the fainthearted
It is for those who are open; those whose hearts are unguarded
It is for those who take risks and are not easily swayed
It is for those who are brave; those who are not afraid.

So be mental and don't listen to the precautions
Have enough strength to reveal all of your emotions
Because if you don't do anything then you'll never know
And it is far more painful to regret than to feel a little sorrow.

It doesn’t really matter— with me being here,you being there, us being not in the same balance—it doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong anymore. We both didn’t want to lose each other and yet we both didn’t do something to save whatever’s left.

Love? It’s still there. It’s still here, standing between us. But is it enough? Would it really be enough?

There are times that love saves two people from hell. But there are also times where love is hell for both people. And we both know where love took us now. We love each other so much that we thought it would be enough.

We are so wrong.

MIXTAPE

I’ve been in love with a girl I know since highschool. I knew she was the one when I took her to prom on our senior’s night and she kissed me and told me that she’s never going to love any other man as much as she loves me. It was then that she owned me.

But the thing is we were not together. We were not a couple. Because her life was already organized even before she met me. She had plans. And she was willing to sacrifice everything in order to reach it, and sadly, including me. She said that she needed to achieve her dreams first before she can fully commit herself to me. It was unfair of her to have such small confidence and trust in us for thinking that she wouldn’t be able to reach them with me. But then again I understood her point. She needed focus, and emotional things are just going to be on her way.

So I let her go. She didn’t tell me to wait but before she boarded the plane, I saw it in her eyes: the hope that someday, when she’s ready to come back, I would still have her. That was the exact moment where I ran to her and kiss her with all the love I have, but when I let her go I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t need to. Because I’ve already decided that I’m willing to wait for her, even if it would take me forever.

Five years has passed and I was surprisingly contented with the status of our relationship.  We communicate once a day. It’s a must. She was the one who insisted that even if we can’t talk to each other, we would send even just one text, or e-mail, about anything, so that our communication would be consistent. I liked that arrangement. It meant that she doesn’t want to lose me.

I’m working at a publishing company as a copywriter. She’s on a financial firm. She’s good with money. Being financially stable was her dream, because she grew up having less. I wasn’t the same. I was born in a middle class family so I didn’t really experience how it felt to run out of money. My family is a bunch of lawyers, or on marketing firms, except for me. I’ve always been the artist in our family. And my job as a copywriter was just enough to suit my lifestyle. But photography is my passion. It has always been. My co-workers and friends and their friends hire me as an official photographer on their weddings, birthdays, and just practically any event. I always say yes, not because I needed the money, but because I’m always excited to be the one who captures moments that would turn into memories which would stay with them forever.

And it was on one of those events where I met you. It was the wedding of my friend John’s sister. It was while you were walking to the altar when I noticed you for the first time. You were the maid of honour. I knew I was supposed to be looking at the bride. After all she was the star of the day. But during that moment, I almost filled the entire memory card of my DSLR with your face, and it would all be you walking down the aisle.

I continued watching you subtly later on the reception. You were unescorted and it made me wonder why. So I asked John to introduce us. I told you my name, and you told me yours. I remember thinking that it suited you perfectly, and it really did.

We then started talking, and boy did we click so well. There weren’t any awkward silences in between. You talked about your job. You’re actually a published novelist hiding under a pseudo name, because you don’t want to be famous. You told me that your day job as an events planner was something you’ve always dreamed of. And when it was my turn to talk, I told you about my day job as a copywriter. I told you about her. It’s not something I hide. I’m quite proud about the fact that I’m already emotionally taken, and it was surprising that for the first time, someone didn’t judge my decision to wait for her. You even supported it and said that it was brave of me, and loyal, and that you wished there are more men like me.

I knew you were not trying to impress me. I knew you were not trying to be anything. You were just…you; honest, witty, talkative, smart, happy, with an infectious smile… beautiful. So effortlessly, ethereally, beautiful.

When I told you about my passion for photography, you were so interested that we ended up talking about it for most of the night, in between eating cakes, gulping down bottles of champagnes, and dancing. While I go around and capture pictures of everyone, you stayed by my side and watched me. And the way your eyes light up with awe as you looked at the photos made everything even more worth it.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered to the photos, but to me you said, “You’re amazing.” And when I looked at you staring up at me, I saw something in your big expressive brown eyes; something that I haven’t seen in a long time:

Longing.

You were missing something, and it was clear that you found in me what you missed. You’re eyes said that you wanted to stay, and whatever it meant to you that time, I wanted it too. I wanted it so bad.

That night, we ended up lying on my bed, naked. Our souls were bared to each other. We discovered that we’re both made up of dusts from the universe. That like the constellation of stars, we were bright, vast, and that there were parts of us that had remained unknown. And so we explored. We connected in more ways than we could ever imagine. Our bodies were perfect together. Our minds think alike. We listened to each other’s heart and deciphered the meaning behind each beat.

I kissed the freckles that were gathered on your cheeks. They looked like stars, so I wished on them. I wished that that night would never end. I wished on them hard.

            I kissed the scars on your neck and back. You said that they were the result of having small pox the year before. You hated them. You said you didn’t want me to see them. But I reassured you that it was okay, and so you let me. You trusted me.

            As I was making love with you, as I worshipped your body, I could sense that under that confident smile lies an insecure person. And so I asked you to tell me what you are most insecure of, and you gestured to your whole being. I remember feeling so mad. I wanted to break something. I wanted to blame each person who made you feel that way. But because I know that I cannot, and that we only have one night, I made love to each and every single part of your body instead. I left nothing. I made sure that when it was over, you would know how utterly perfect you are.

            And then you started kissing away the worried frown between my brows, giving me back each healing kisses I gave you. You kissed away the wrinkles that were forming at the corners of my eyes. You made love to the laugh lines at each corner of my mouth and trailed long lingering kisses down my jaw, onto my neck, and to my chest; marking yourself there forever.

            We whispered everything and nothing into the darkness that filled the room. We danced between the warm sheets of my bed; our bodies colliding in tune with the music that our mouths were making. The sweet moans, the hungry groans, the hurried gasps—each sound that had escaped from our lips was like a song. I was drowning into you and I didn’t want to get up.

But we knew that what we were doing that night wasn’t right, but how can something so beautiful and amazing be so wrong? I didn’t want it to end. You didn’t, too. I was prepared to stay, to gamble, to risk all the years that I had with her just so I could have another day with you. It bothered the hell out of me since I wasn’t even in love with you, because it was not possible. I was in love with her. But then if I were to choose that night, I would choose you over her. To hell with all the consequences.

And so as we laid still, covered under my blanket, with the first rays of sun hitting our bodies, I told you that I want more of you; that I want more of us. But you shook your head and said that nothing right will ever come out from something that was started the wrong way. That no matter what we do, we have people whose hearts we carry within us and it’s our responsibility to take care of them. “You carry her heart,” you said, “and I… I carry his.”

I just stared at you in utter surprise. And then I asked, I had to ask, “Do you love him?”

“Yes, as much as you love her.”

Your revelation felt like a bomb. You dropped it on me without any warning. I didn’t know that you were committed to someone else. You didn’t tell me. No one ever cared to tell me. I just went right into the pit with no knowledge of what was waiting for me at the bottom. But even then, even if my heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, I still wanted you. But I could feel you already withdrawing yourself from me, and so I tried to hold on by wrapping my arms around you, wishing to everything that you would take your words back, to stay with me and leave him.

However, I thought about her, on what she would feel if she ever found out. Devastated, she will be. She had put so much effort into her dreams, trying to reach it as early as she can just so she can come back to me, and what did I do? I betrayed her. I broke her trust. I violated her loyalty. I murdered her heart. When not once she ever cheated on me, because I would know. Because if the situation were reversed, she would tell me.

And then I thought of how, perhaps, you were feeling the way that I do, that’s why you wouldn’t allow yourself to want more than what we have shared. That’s when I gave up. You love him, as much as I love her. I kissed you one last time before I pulled my arms away from you. I brushed the tears that had fallen from your face but I didn’t tell you anything. I didn’t need to. My silence said it all.

We got dressed in awful silence. We couldn’t even look at each other’s eyes. And as I stood there, I could only watch in helpless surrender as you were getting ready to leave. I offered to take you home because it’s the least that I could do. I didn’t want to just let you leave my apartment like an unmitigated ass; like nothing ever happened. But you looked at me and just smiled weakly, shaking your head no. That single word meant so much more than just you rejecting my offer of a ride home, and it almost broke me down.

For the next minutes I watched you brush your hair, put on some make-up and then when you were ready, you tried to flash me a happy smile. But they didn’t reach your eyes, so I didn’t bother joining your pretence. You sighed and retrieved something from your small bag and handed it to me. It was a CD. I asked what it was for. You said that the day before the wedding, you felt restless. It was like something was going to happen; you just weren’t sure what. So you made a mixtape. And before I could ask you what the connection was, you covered my mouth with your hand and shook your head. You kissed me for the last time then said goodbye, and the coward that I am I just stood there and watched you leave my life forever.

I didn’t get out of my apartment that day, or the next. I just stayed and listened to the mixtape you gave me. I waited for something big to happen while I was listening to the songs. I waited for some kind of an unexpected discovery, something that would make me understand you even more; something magical and vast and strange, like our meeting.

But what happened wasn’t something big. Instead it was more like a slow revelation. It revealed to me in small realizations the answer to all the questions I had in my mind: Why we can never be? Why we can’t just throw our responsibilities and feelings away and just give in to the strong connection we have for each other? Why we can’t be impulsive, aggressive and just do whatever our hearts was telling us to do?

I found answers, but they were not about you. That’s just it. It’s like a dead end; you are a dead end. What happened between us made me realize that no matter how many times you question the way of the universe, no matter how loud you would shout to the sky and wish on a falling star, no one will ever answer you back and tell you what you want to hear. Life will continue to disappoint us, hurt us, and scar us in the most bittersweet and ironic of ways, but it also has the power to turn something small and unexpected into something that has the power to change your life. It’s just up to you to decide whether it’s for the better or not.

It made me realize then that no matter how much you want to make a thing into something more, if it is not meant to be, the whole world will conspire against it. But if it is meant to happen, not even the universe could stop it.

Still, you ask yourself. Can that one night be really enough to last you a lifetime? Perhaps yes, perhaps no.

People say that you could only love one person in your life. If someone told me that a year ago, I would have agreed with them. But I’ve read once that you can actually love two people at the same time, but the other one is called your soulmate. You just have to decide which of the two you will choose.

I didn’t know the difference between the two back then because I was contented with having the love of my life. And as far as I knew she was also my soulmate. Life proved me wrong.

Because in a wedding, set in the most random and ordinary of days, as I was doing something that I have loved since I could remember, I met a girl named Camille. I met you. And the way we connected wasn’t only spectacular. It was out of this world. In my more fanciful of days, I would call it miraculous. But just like how miracles are, they mostly only happen once. The most important thing to do is to cherish them. Remember them. Take care of them. Remind yourself how blessed you are that you got to experience something so wonderful; that in a planet inhabited by billions of people, you got the chance to meet that one other person who is exactly like you. That in a one and a billion chance ratio, you met your soulmate, and then realize that not everyone is as lucky as you.

**************************************