(This serves as an introduction to my new series on love stories. I hope you like it. 🙂 )
I creatively and gingerly drip thick ink on my favorite piece of paper with thoughts of you — thoughts that have been transformed into strings of words on an otherwise dry tabula rasa. I write now because I had a dream of you a few days ago. Visions or hallucinations, it no longer matters. I see you looking with me by the window of a house with brown walls, my head resting on the railings as I held my rotund belly. In that scene, you were looking with me, and not just always looking at me. You are looking at me AND with me because we love each other and we are headed in the same direction.
You hold my hand. You tell me that I am the missing part of your rib with no deceptive fib or playfulness whatsoever. You back up your claims with both actions and words, the former overpowering the latter in most instances. You do not complete me, and I do not complete you. We are both complete and we just choose to bask in the synergy of being together. And this synergy yields fruits both seen and unseen.
I am secure in you. I do not beg for your attention because you give it in sufficient measure. You have your life, and I have mine. But it will never keep you from your wanting to have me by your side. I do not feel any trace of insecurity because I know deep inside that what we have is unlike any other links with women you shall make in this lifetime.
I am like a lost ball in the high weeds when I think of you. I both see sunsets and sunrises in the dark pools of your eyes, our pupils dilated in attraction and unparalleled in its beauty. I drown myself in the windows of your soul. You stare back at me without flinching. And with that eclectic moment of gazing at you, I have no need to keep my powder dry, walk on eggshells, or tread through murky waters. It will always be as crystal clear as the pair of eyes that has been freshly awashed by saltwater tears.
You do your best not to be the cause of tears because you always want me flashing my not-so-pearly whites. I look at you and I see a hundred percent mutual acceptance of each other.
At your arrival, I finally understand why it never worked out with anyone else.
I nestle my head in your chest and be wrapped in your arms for an unmeasured length of time. And I see myself doing this in my young age and in my old age.
And while all this magic holds true at the first phase of being with you, I know that you will never be perfect. Feelings will eventually taper off into stability and maturity.
A time will come when you will fail, disappoint, and puncture my heart even with your best intentions. But it matters little when you do those. For all your failures, your honesty in acknowledging those things and not lying about them shall save you each time.
For all our failures, our willingness to continue trying to make it work is what will help us stand firm and strong.
We incur scars from each other, from ourselves, and from others. But we both acknowledge that in each scar, there is a lesson learned and a stronger bond that outlasts the storms. You will not give up on me, and I will not give up on you. Feelings may die, but we have the resolute will to stay on and withstand every storm.
Every moment that I am alone, I shall wait for you to fully evolve as a tangible part of my reality, romantic figment of my imagination. And I hope that when that happens, you will spend time with me in the one place on earth I have always wanted to go to:
As I wait for you, I write about other people’s real stories of love.
Someday, I will write ours:
backed by actions,
and lasting for a lifetime.