Certain memories of you have dulled. And it’s not because they weren’t special or impactful. You left a crater on my heart, an indent impossible to fully heal. Yes, time does come in and takes up space. It glosses over our exact words, dims my recollection just a bit. I don’t remember the date we broke up. I’m not even sure what shirt I was wearing the last time I kissed you. Maybe it was a black shirt. Yeah, I think it was a black shirt, along with shorts.

But, you see, I can only say think. Because I’m not sure. These days, I don’t study the details like the way I once did. I remember your face, of course. The warmth to your dark-brown eyes. Your short hair. And even after all this distance, your laugh finds me in the most random moments. Even though, honestly, it’s your smile that still fucks me up.

It doesn’t matter how many years it has been, that smile still knocks me over. I see a photo of you and my stomach feels punched. How can someone be so beautiful? So dazzling? God. I don’t know if it’s ever going to fade. It should have by now, right? Yes? No? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know if we still know each other. It’s like we, who were once so in love, are figures from our past, and I’m not even sure the newer versions would even get along.

But, hell, all you have to do is smile at me. Smile. Just smile, and I will forget we ever fell apart. Smile, and I will forget the feeling of my heart and soul being torn apart. Smile, and I will know that you’re a battle worth fighting for.

Smile, and I will be yours all over again.





I still love you.

Even though I know I probably should ignore that. Or even though I know that I probably should not. Every single day, you’re getting further and further away. Literally, and figuratively. Is there something star-crossed about this? I don’t know, Love. I just don’t know. All I know, there’s just this distance between us. Filled with nothingness. Just space.

You see, my brain doesn’t seem to get the memo. It keeps factoring you into future plans. It imagines some moment when timing works out and we’re in the same zip code and there’s no longer a reason to keep us apart. Trust me, I tell it to stop. But it just continues, month after month. It creeps in when I’m trying to do other things and makes it impossible to focus. It’s like you’re a song they overplay on the radio. You’re there. You’re always there. I can act like I’m tired of it. I might even do something like complain about it. Or sometimes, I make jokes– stupid jokes about it. But I always turn off the radio whenever it comes on.

But you’re still somewhere in the back of my mind. You’re still here rooting strong in my heart. You’re still that tune– that one tune that plays inside my head– that one tune that people keeps dancing to, slowly, gently, step by step. Just a glass or two of whiskey later, I’m humming it. That tune. You. I’m singing it in the shower and cursing myself for not being able to get rid of it.

I can’t get rid of you.

Even though I’ve tried. Even though I’ve heard this same damn tune one too many times and I know that it feels I should change the channel. The stupid, cringy lyrics keep coming back to me over and over again:

“Text me and I will text right back. Kiss me, and I’ll kiss you right back. Make a plan for us and I’ll clear all my schedule. The more girls I meet, the more I feel myself coming back to you, oh.”

Maybe my heart is stubborn or masochistic or downright stupid. Maybe, and I hate admitting this, I actually like the idea of being unhappy and letting my feelings for you fester is a symptom of that. Sometimes, happiness without you, feels like a trick more than anything. Without you, it feels pretty damn difficult when your brain is going against you, and deciding that it’s a better idea to instead come up with every possible way that things could go wrong. Without you, it feels like failure. It feels impossible. It feels exhausting, like an undertaking that is impossible to win.

Whatever the case, there’s one thing I know for sure:

I still love you.



“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Essentially, everyone knows what they have and don’t have to do. They just don’t usually sure about themselves most of the time. I know what I’m doing.”

“But this road part is crucial. You can’t do anything reckless.”

“Am I, now? It’s a beautiful, sad crisis. And I’ve been travelling it since more than a year ago. I went on and on, inherent to human nature. I’ve been doing what I need to do to survive.”

“And how are you?”

“Half-angry, half-sad. I fooled myself to the game of protection. I’m holding on to my ego: well-trained to endure, numb, and distract myself, blinding my emotion. A defense mechanism, to keep my heart at bay.”

“You forget that love and hate are the same emotion, camouflaged in different costumes. You’re growing your hate in the same way you grow your love.”

“They are in two different sides of field. But the opposite is still the same. We call it ignorance. It kills both love and hate. Love, especially.”

“It killed yours?”

“Subtly. Crueler than everything. The trail of her touch that lingered– fired with passion of her skin against mine, was my assailant. Her lips that stole my breath away– that destroyed me, was the instrument of my affliction. But the ignorance – her ignorance, which also helped mine to grow – have been lingering dreadfully in the stillness between who we were. Between what she and I could be.”

“Ignorance. Yes. A murderer. Always a homicide scene. It killed every word inside the brain with points sharper than spearheads and phrasing blunter than cement bricks. The silence is excruciating. It slowly devours hearts.”

“My consciousness is holding it inside me. It stops the killing. It tries to erase the guilt. It holds back more than the verdict of an open and shut murder trial.”

“Maybe it’s been simply misunderstood all this time. Listen closely. Do your heart and mind spoke about it many times before? Does it pain you like it should?”



“Occasionally. From time to time. Once In a while. Sometimes. When I look across the memories that she and I once loved, laughed, and wept in– where I smiled at her and called every moment that we had as our moment. Yes, it was our moment. Her moment. My moment. Now it’s just mine, and mine alone.”

“Think of it. If only people could decide how hurt someone is allowed to be with their behaviour, what kind of world would it be? Or rather, how badly do you want to be hurt? Would you ask for your own, personal torture?”

“Drown someone, and decide how loud they could scream. Stab someone, and decide how much they are allowed to bleed. Set someone on fire, and decide how much of a mess their ashes are allowed to make. Destroy someone, and decide how ruined they are allowed to feel.”

“Crush your heart, break it to pieces, step on it, and?”

“And feel everything. I’d take everything as it is. You don’t let people know about it, mostly because you can’t. And it’s useless. People don’t understand how much they have hurt other people. They can’t. We can’t. Not ever. No human being is empathetic enough to do it.”

“But no matter how much you’ve hurt, you’ll forget it. You’ll heal. You will. She will. Everyone will. No matter how dark the night is, the sun will rise again.”

“And the night will falls down and cast its shroud again eventually. Yes, and no. Yes, I will – or rather, I might – heal. But no, I will not forget about it.”

“Everyone forgets. There will always be things that they push to the back of their head, things that will blur, and died, along with time.”

“It’s been quite some time since I saw her. Maybe I will forget about some things.”

“But not the feelings.”

“Maybe not the feelings. But if ignorance keeps gnawing on the lines between me and her, maybe I will soon forget something. Maybe. Maybe; maybe; maybe.”

“Always be afraid of how our memory works.”

“And it has to come from what I would always see from her face.”

“Lips? Eyes? Nose?”

“Her eyes. I might soon forget the color of that pair of stars that she has.”

“.. And maybe, maybe she will forget mine.”






Outstretch your hands, and bare your stained glass heart.

Let me take it with courage, hold it with strength, and keep it with patience.
I know that it is not perfect– I know that it has been chipped and cracked.
But I also know that it is not broken.

I know that it still beats with passion.
I know that it could still love aplenty.
It is the most resplendent part of you.

And the light it holds within shines all the brighter
For the times and places that it has been worn thin.

Can I have it ?
I promise I will take it with courage,
Hold it with strength,
And keep it with patience.

For what’s going to be left of my world if you’re not in it?



Dear Love,

They say work is the best antidote for sorrow.
Who are they, and why they said that, you ask? I don’t really know.
But I guess what they said was totally true.


Let me tell you that for 1.5 years I’ve been trying so hard to be okay with what happened to you and me, especially with the most bitter fact of you leaving.

Yes, I’ve been trying so hard not to think of you, and I’ve been trying so hard not to stumble across memories that makes me remember all about you.
Or, well, maybe the most accurate part is, I’m trying so hard not to let that certain feeling – of me loving you until this very day – taking over me.
But, you know, things aren’t always go smoothly like what we want them to be.
Especially on a night like this, where I just miss you so badly.
And, as I missed you, just like always, I did things.

You see, at times like this, I just go looking for a picture of us.
I saw a photo of us, and we looked so happy.
I was holding you, you were all wrapped around me, and we were smiling.
Me, in that stupid hair, and you, with that charming smile of yours.
We, were in love.
And, that was not all, I went around looking for our messages.
Some messages that I forgot to delete, and some of our old messages that we sent to each other in that dread messenger around 6-7 years ago.

And you know what? It hit me.
It hit me that it will probably take some time to be like that with you again.
And, what hit me the hardest was the fact that there is indeed a possibility that I will never get another moment with you like that– not ever.
Look, I did all of those, seeing all of those pictures, looking at those messages, all just because I want to remind myself that I matter to you.
That, at least, I did matter to you.
That it was not all a lie.

That for even just a glimpse in your life, I was all you thought about.

Again, it hit me.
It hit me that I might not again get to hear you laugh at my stupid jokes.
I might not again get to see your eyes roll everytime I’m being so stupid.
And I might not again get to see your eyes sparkle when you see me– those eyes that sparkles beautifully just like the stars at night.
God, I really love those looks of yours.
Those looks alone that could make me feel an adrenaline rush, as if I was high on you– as if I could consume you like a drug, inhaling and exhaling– as if I could feel a certain kind of warmth whenever you were around me.
A warmth that made me feel so whole.
Okay, I might still get the chance to smile at you randomly just because I love you, I even did it I don’t know how many times the last time I was with you.

But, again, what hits me is that the possibility of us ending.

Love, more and more I found myself thinking of it, more and more I also found myself at a loss of words and didn’t want to hear nor see anything.
It was as if all words, all things that my eyes could see, and all conversations that I could hear around me, seem so false and so empty.
If I could, I would just prefer to look at the sea.
Just like this right now.
Yes, it’s dark and I could see nothing but some beach line under the lights and some boat lights in the horizon, and also some fireworks that the other tourists lit up for fun even though it’s four days past the actual new year celebration.
And who the hell plays fireworks at 3 A.M in the morning at the beach ?
But again, I prefer to look at the sea, and to feel my face between its breeze.

Because the sea, whenever you look at it, always so powerful, yet so calm that it says nothing, but at the same time never made me feel alone.
Just like love.

Putting it to the extreme, maybe love has nothing else like it.
Maybe love is not an action nor reaction, and not a destiny nor choice.
Maybe it’s just purely a feeling, a real, raw, and unscripted emotion.
It’s so sensationally pure that it is unable to dull, even under the strain of the world against it, and it is also strong enough to warm the coldest of hearts.
I guess it is innate, and it is unavoidable.

And it is also.. Undeniable.

And, sometimes, love is unconventional.
It breaks all the rules and blurs all the lines and basks in its glory, shining as bright as the sun, unapologetically glowing even under the narrowed stares of society and its screaming, self righteous-morals, berating and judging that which it just does not understand at all.
Because, simply thinking of it, where’s the logic in being able to talk for hours about absolutely nothing with someone? Someone that you really love?
Love, nothing that we ever did was simple.
You once said that they were, yes, you could thank our love for that right now.

But, let me tell you that our every touch and moment spent together was electrified– if what we have isn’t love, then love just doesn’t truly exist.

Love, the salty sea breeze really makes me miss you like goddamn crazy.
And it also gave me a random thought that I ought to ask you:
If, at this time, right now, I come to you, to your room, standing right in front of you with flowers in my hand, what would you do?
Can you make out what it is ?

Can you see through the shroud that what I brought are flowers, and not knives ?

Do me a favor, take all the flowers and say thank you.
They aren’t knives, and they are filled with my love towards you.
Plus, they are real flowers, isn’t that a plus ?

What I’m saying is, I love you, and I miss you so fucking bad.
Please buy the ticket for earliest plane available, and tell me that you’re coming.
You could sit beside me on the sand just like what I’m doing right now.
And we could count the stars and see the sun rise later.

Now, smile, and carve that lovely curve in your face.
And know that I fucking love you– I do.

More than you will ever know.

Hugs and kisses,