It was a tethered type of love.
It was selfish, it was blind.
It was choking and unkind.
It was danger and lust combined.
It was addicting like aged wine.
But it wasn’t all mine.
A response to Daily Post’s Tether
I tried to Bridge the distance,
break the silence, and reach your heart,
Trust me Darling, I tried..
But like the impossible tall skyscrapers
and the turbulence of the waves,
you were consumed by your inconceivable pride..
As she struggled to unshackle herself
from the spell of his deceitful eyes,
she bowed her heavy head
and silently prayed to all the deities.
Her mind fazed while her heart howled in desperation,
begging the unknown for some answers.
Why was it HIM when there was someone better.
Someone who would love her more than
the leftovers he could only afford to give her.
As she contained the bubbling emotions
threatening to give her vulnerability away,
the treacherous tears started falling.
Her heart continued to scream
what she mostly desired,
to be with him until the end
despite his heart locking itself
in a Distant tower she could never conquer.
As I put my phone in my purse, my friend suddenly asked the question “Do you miss him?” I was dumbfounded for a second because I didn’t know how to respond. I was waiting for that piercing feeling in my chest to take over, but it did not happen. The pilot started announcing that we just landed on the tarmac of Vancouver, but I was still mulling over the answer to her question. I had experienced the notorious aftermath of painful goodbyes few times every time I went home in the past, and the gnawing feeling of missing someone as I attempted to strut my way to the airport without bawling my eyes out is not something to joke about. It is probably the fact that those goodbyes were always permanent, and staying connected with that same relationship was completely out of the question. Your case on the other hand was the opposite and is always has been.
You are different because I never feel the existence of goodbye between us. Yes, it’s cliché to say you have been with me all along from day one, but that is how things have turned out the moment we started hanging out. I bid my goodbye to the six weeks of blissful vacation, but you have been always there as I navigated the excruciating security checks of different international airports. As I continued to rant over and over again about the endless lineup, expensive airport food, and rude people I got to encounter, you listened with no judgement. Your constant reminder of not turning into “beastmode” kept me at bay from unleashing my bitchiness because I still need to have that “poise.” You were thoughtful. You were charming. You deviated from the rest. You have been consistent in doing so until now, and I’m thankful for that.
I have been always a firm believer of controlling or making your own fate. I never relied on letting the course of life takes over or believing the existence of probabilities and chances like you do. Being idle and watching things to occur on their own is never my forte. I recklessly make decisions like a Catapult and deal with the consequences later whether good or bad. This time however, I will take things slow and let them occur on their own. This time, I will try to believe in the power of fate, as it spins whatever it has stored for “YOU and ME” if there is such thing destined. As a final answer to my friend’s question, I do miss you, and I wish I could freeze the times we were together one last time. I sit here not knowing how to end this blog post but wishing I could turn back time. Giving you that one lasting hug as you swaggered your way out the restaurant might have mitigated the overwhelming wistful emotion I have at this moment. Nevertheless, entrusting the future to the deities of fate and time as we continue to navigate the journey of what we have right now is a choice I have just made. I hope everything pans out for the both of us. Till next time!
Trying to get my brain cells to construct words for a decent blog post right now is such a daunting task when I’d rather crawl under the covers and binge-watch anime. But because it has been customary for me to rant about “getting a year older” on this particular day of December, pardon the un-finesse and bewildering tirade about the complexities attach to “adulting” which you are about to read. You are more than welcome to either click the “X” button on the right corner of your screen or continue to deduce the logic behind the strings of words I am trying to formulate. Even yours truly is having trouble turning the content of this post into something inspirational, comprehensive and worth reading.
Being a few years closer to hitting the three-zero zone is becoming dreadful especially if you haven’t put a single check mark beside those “things to do before I turn thirty” on your bucket list. A friend of mine asked about my age yesterday, and I unconsciously made the mistake of making myself one year older than my actual age. By the time we went on our separate ways, I realized that something was off about the information I gave him. I mentally did the Math, and I realized that I just made myself a year older, albeit unknowingly. I like to delude myself right now that barely surviving nine, grueling shifts with no decent day off in between sets was the culprit, thus, explained my mentally confused self on that particular day. However, the fact is that I stopped counting the years after I hit twenty-five. Nobody wants to be constantly reminded about getting old after all.
The impact of becoming older and how it changes a person’s personality and perspectives throughout the years is undeniable. They say our own experiences in life can give us the confidence and courage to take risks. This is probably true. Confessing to someone and being rejected with subtlety by the words “it’s cool” did not suck the life out of me. In fact, it made me learn something about myself and the things I am capable of if I like someone. Do I regret doing it? Not really. I shrug my shoulders with disinterest nowadays because I did not lose an arm or a leg from breaking a societal norm. This experience at least gave me something to tell to people when they say my standards are “too high” or that I am “too picky” when it comes to dating. The world is not going to end if someone chips away your pride or gives your heart few splinters to live with. Behind those failures and rejections are invaluable lessons which definitely become handy if new opportunities come along the way.
Getting older involves different formulas of maturity and underlying responsibilities whether you like it or not. Your world no longer revolves around partying until dawn, getting wasted in the club, thinking about what clothes to wear the next day and stressing about your unrequited crushes. Having a decent career, paying debts and bills, gaining unwanted lbs here and there, surviving relationships and heartbreak, having babies and raising a family of your own, and enduring unsolicited criticisms for being single from the people around you become the “adulting” norms (Ayeh!). That behind these colossal changes and responsibilities is the courage to continue living with fervour. You learn to live with the audacity of not caring about what others think of you. At the end of the day, handling life with vigor and Anticipation and surviving these adversaries is what matters in this so-called adult life.