A love unshared

I once was the typical hopeless romantic girl overly keen to give her heavy love. I read love novels like my dad reads his morning paper, and I watched love movies like my grandma watches her soap opera: religiously. I would then reenact the stories in my cloudy head and giggles from the excitement of my hope to live it.

A few of the guys I dated were assholes and in a few of my failed relationship, I was the asshole. But none seem to leave much-shattered scar and my hope remained intact.

Until there was you in my life.

In one random day, I met you and was charmed by your display as a faultless human being. Your words were well composed, your gestures were pleasing to eyes, and your brownish eyes underneath that flick eyelashes, make you almost too dreamy to be real.

I, on the other hand, lost for words and my heart pounded like that one rare afternoon I decided to take a boxing class. I laugh stupidly in all the words you uttered, my hands were all over my face and my hair in hope to conceal my severe delight, and my checks felt fiery, which indicated that I must blushed as red as the hoodie you were wearing.

But you were nice nevertheless and enfolded me as you said your goodbye to go to your next class.

We kept in touch and I invited you over for the first time. There was not much to show in my attempt to give you a house tour, and so we watched a movie. My mind was so busy with all my “what-ifs” that I often lost track of what you said. Then somehow we held hands and I rested my head on your secure shoulder. I told you my cotton-candy view of my life stories, and you told me yours. I don’t remember how suddenly your eyes were fixed to mine and your lips drift closer, as the movie slowly acted as our background sound.

That day closed the miles between our different worlds, or so I thought.

I was for weeks obsessed with all sounds coming from my phone, which I never was.

I was in love with how you touched me and touched my heart in a way no one has ever did, or have I ever allowed to. But I know from the start that you are not the person whom I would grow old with, and whom I should have grow sentiment for. Yet, I let you stay, knowing my heart would take a beat anytime soon.

It was unhealthy of how un-mutual our feelings were. I felt used and loathed myself for allowing it to happen.

I wrote on my journal about you and it was like a pity party for myself. I wondered what I ever did to deserve such cold shoulder from you, I asked.

But in all truthfulness, none of it was your fault as you never flaunted any interest of solemn relationship, or one with me that is, from when we met and I was mindful of it. So I ended it to prevent myself from any more midnight tears and insecurities.

I was fine for a few days until a close friend of mine asked me about him and I told her that he no longer part of my day. The act of saying it out loud broke down my wall of self-reassurance that all is well. My tears came rushing in and I was finally awakened from my exquisite dream of him.

I felt sad for losing him, but above all else, I was devastated that my idea of love crushed to ashes.

That was the year when I learned love is not innocence and lives happily ever after, like how all books and movies I had, convinced me for years.

To love is to be vulnerable, they said. But being vulnerable hurts. To put your hope on someone’s shoulders is daunting. And to lose someone who took a big portion of your days for months, then disappear without trace and fight makes a heart too dense, thus the difficulty in doing the simplest task in life: breath.

My close friends came a few times to hug and comfort me, but that didn’t do much help, as it felt wrong to feel okay. I don’t want to feel okay, because it would mean that I am admitting this is a part of life everyone has to live, thus would have to live it all over again someday.

There is a reason for everything that happens in life and his visit in my naïve life was, I think, to wake me up from my long dream. There won’t be love without work from both sides. Love from only one of two parties involved simply won’t be enough, regardless how much love you are willing to give.


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