I just want to write anything. Anything that enters my mind, never minding the grammar or what people would say. I just want to express myself, allowing to flow out what is oozing from the depths of my heart. So spontaneous. So natural. Unpretentious. Frank, and honest. If I cannot be honest with myself, I can never be honest with others. That’s why it’s vital for me to write, or else I will burst out and succumb to immense loneliness.
Do I still love her? If so, why can’t I fight for and pursue her love? If not, why do I feel loneliness every time thought of her falling in love with someone else pops to my mind. Why do I feel pity on myself every time I remember the spurned love I’ve endowed her. And that she’s happy out there with her man, and that I’m here suffering terrible loneliness thinking of her. Did I not tell her that her happiness is all I want for her. Did I not tell her that her happiness, even it’s in the arms of other man, is also my happiness? Why do I continue to long for her though it was a very long time ago since I’ve decided to quit? Why can’t I let go and move on. Have I not told myself and all others that I already have moved on? Why do I still long to see her, to be with her. Why do I long for her cares. Do I still love her?
Answers to these questions remain floating in clouds of uncertainty. The answers matter. It has a lifetime implication. Who is she that I should feel this way toward her? Who is she that memories of her should cause me loneliness. Who is she that she should cause me terrible distress. Who is she that I should spend many words doing self-introspection, thinking about her. Who is she that I can’t let go of? Can’t I really. I can. I did.
Probably because she’s my first love. Was she my first love? I don’t think so. Perhaps because she’s the first one whom I have courted in months. A thing I’ve never done to any lady other than her.
Or is it because that I couldn’t accept defeat on love that makes me feel terrible about myself and on her. That it’s not I still love her that I feel this way toward her, but it’s the thought that I did not succeed on one thing. In this case—it’s love.
Honestly, I cannot imagine my life fifty years from now with her in one house with the kids playing in the garden. This is the main reason why I could say that I don’t love her at all. She has the charm. She has the sweetness every man could desire for. But she’s fickle. She easily falls in love with other man. Are not all ladies fickle? Both in minds and heart. Doesn’t their devotion to a man easily change as weather?
Oh, I’m stereotyping. Sociologists do not stereotype. That’s what experience does to us. We personally experience a thing, and think it is universal. At times we forget the uniqueness of an individual just because the very being of one occupies all the rooms in our thought. We tend to measure things up or even see people with respect to that one. Terrific wrong. Reference point should be fixed and perfect. Otherwise, it will lead us to nowhere. Confused. Directionless. Lost.
Some lessons I’ve learned on love.
1. Definition. There are two definitions on love that I love the most. First, “Love is thinking, desiring, and doing the highest good for other person.” Second, “greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” Let me add a third one—God is love. I’ve noticed that the first two are others-directed. The third one is the shortest definition, but encompasses everything. A love not founded on the third one whether it’s filial, erotic, or charity, is no love at all, has a selfish quality and bound to disappointment and self-destruction.
2. Love is a decision. Love is not merely falling in love. Nor is it merely an emotion. The first glance could be accidental (destiny), but the second glance is a decision. The succeeding romantic moments—dates, visits, flowers, gifts, love letters, watching sunset together– are series of decisions. These decisions are like blocks you craftily arrange to build a mansion. Many decisions are needed to build it, but only one, yes only one decision, could break it, totally losing everything.