The pretty thing about being in love is you get to choose what you want to see and you get the privilege of having to feel what you want to. Yes, it is confusing. It is complicated. On top of that it’s pathetic.
Everyday, I see couples walking by. Some laughing boisterously, others teary-eyed, or just merely walking hand in hand. There isn’t a day that passed that I didn’t ask myself that. I always thought finding love was as simple as talking or watching the latest comedy flick. I just realized that the slightest possibility of love unfolding before me was impossible. But I fell in love and I fell. No one caught me. Falling in love became the greatest mistake I made. It led me to question the existence of love, of my identity, even God. The possibility of me finding myself in the arms of the one I love was about a hundred light years away.
Close, yet far. It is an old line; overused. But that overused line proves that there were others before me who fell in love at the right time, with the wrong person. He is my priority. I’m his sidetrip. I’m just a friend who fell in love with her friend. Twice I told him about what I felt. I got turned down once. He told me that friendship was all he could offer at the time. I was angry and I was crying. My face was numb all over. My hands were shaking. But I stood there next to him, just looking ahead. There was nothing to look at, just dark skies and rooftops. It was the same with what I felt. Empty. Fast forward to 8 months later, I’m still here and hopeful that he will love me back I’m still dreaming about how forever would be like with him.
I’ve heard of comments from people who said that I was always imposing myself, how authoritative I was. I didn’t care. I did things the best and right way I knew how. Then comes this guy who walks into my life and I changed. I was still very much bossy but this time I gave way to the people around me. I thought that if I gave them a chance to do what they wanted, I would be appreciated in return. I gave a lot, too generous perhaps but that was my plan and my goal was to be loved in return. In the long run, I was abused mentally, emotionally and financially. Being the martyr, I stayed, cried, stood up and readied myself to take my life back. I packed all the things he gave me including the pictures. And again, he tried to soothe the pain. I was not happy but he provided relief. I didn’t take him back, he wasn’t mine anyway. Instead, I unpacked all the memorabilia and pretended that I was fine. It wasn’t a very good decision. Instead of talking I was quiet most of the day. I was aloof. I was in the shadows for the longest time ever. Gradually, I loosened the shackles that I restrained myself with. It felt lighter and lighter as I got back to normal, as I tried to play my role as his friend again. Still, I was in love. Its getting harder to contain my feelings. I know one day, he will hear my third and last proposal. This time, it’s either a homerun or I’ll be officially out of the game.