It had been three days since I returned from shanghai, and i’m still experiencing the terrible ache from leaving you behind. I don’t miss you because you’re gone. I miss you because you’re here, every minute of every day, in my heart, in my thoughts, in my veins. I miss you because you never truly left. I had told you before that once, I asked a friend how do one know if it is love, and she replied that “when you feel like dying at the thought of it ending.” And I think I understand her words now, of which pain acts as a measurement for the amount of love. I guess I must love you pretty damn much then.
Love, to me, is about being extremely vulnerable and yet still trust. That if I were to fall into a pit of darkness, you might even be my light; that I can introduce you to my demons and you wouldn’t even hide. It’s about giving you my heart and hoping you wouldn’t break it; love is as fragile as life itself but still believing in another “tomorrow” of existing. 8 months of being physically apart were plagued with insecurities and frustration at inability to clearly calculate the worth of this relationship, constantly doubting if you had loved me as much as I had initially assumed you did. I secretly tried to rationalise that I was probably overstimulated by the excitement of living abroad and a sexy foreigner as boyfriend that I mistook the positive feelings as love – that back into the grind of normal life they would fade along with time. In fact, together with the pre-trip anxieties, I had pessimistically thought that at the end of everything we would result in a break up, once I had clarified the confusion. But if anything, the trip just proved how gravely wrong I was at the bleak outlook.
It’s mind-blowing, really. Seeing you again, waiting at the arrival gates immediately filled me up with indescribable happiness, and it felt so incredible to finally feel your warmth again. Even the underwhelming city, the cold weather, and my awkwardness with your friends… they didn’t even put a slightest dent to the joy of being with you again. Uncontrollable grins, countless hugs and kisses, endless shit to say, comfortable silences… these are probably good evidence that time and distance didn’t pull us apart. I remembered thinking, “I’m so so so lucky!” that I could get to reach out and just touch the man I love again, and no matter whatever disagreements we had I know that I can run back to you and count on receiving an unconditional and loving embrace, always. You make me feel safe and secure with your love, and that was when I realised sometimes, home has a heartbeat.
I think I need you, and I don’t want to live a life without you (if possible).
It was an astonishing realisation, but not entirely unwelcoming. Ever since I discovered romantic relationships, I had the perception that maybe monogamy is not for me since I value the freedom of choice and variety. Also, I pride myself on being relatively independent and enjoy my own company, and theorised that maybe some people stuck to their partners for the sake of not wanting to be alone. Why should I let myself depend on another for happiness, when I can derive satisfaction from other fulfilling and more importantly, reliable pursuits? Sure, this question still baffles me greatly, but my need for you kinda overcomes the need to get a rationale answer. This must be the power of love, for one to gain courage to overlook hypothetical difficulties. I mean, a typical long distance relationship would probably involves years of waiting, longing, loneliness, despair, heartache, temptation, uncertainties… on top of practical concerns such as funding for traveling, time-zone differences, clashes of schedules and even the cruel process of job hunting in a new country as an alien instead of enjoying the privileges of citizenship. There’s also the giant leap of faith needed for one to uproot oneself from everything and everyone familiar, and to adapt to a new culture and environment for the idea of forever with someone. Awfully terrifying, isn’t it? I still see no light at the end of the tunnel, but I had already embarked and traveled quite a distance onto this tough journey, and hence the mad desire to one day live in the same city with you shall serve as fuel to keep hope, keep moving in your direction.
My sweetheart, I cannot ask you to imagine a beautiful future together because I myself cannot see such visions in my head. I will not request you to devote to me when I cannot commit myself absolutely and fully to you. I cannot promise you that these feelings would not flicker or extinguish. The most frightening thing of all is that feelings aren’t fixed. You can be everything one moment, and just enough another, then nothing at all the next. It’s not so much the missing that terrifies me, but the certainty that a day will come when I no longer feel anything for you at all. Equally as heart wrenching is that, you can be the one to move on first. But I am beginning to learn that maybe it would be unhealthy to deny us love for each other, from fear of things yet to happen. Fuck the what-ifs and potential heartbreaks; I want you bad and I need you now. I love you so much it fucking hurts, and my darling that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes a simple text from you can brighten up the day, sometimes love songs rip me apart, sometimes I hold imaginary conversations with you and even in my head you can make me laugh. You are my emotional roller coaster, one that I trust will protect me from plunging into hell, and you make me feel alive again when i previously thought my insides were half dead. So thank you, for being the amazing person just the way you are.
If one day you’re reading this and we didn’t work out then, just know that at this point of writing there was a girl who thinks the world of you, that you are deserving of all the love she can humanely give. I love you, with all my heart, I truly do.
Homesick for kiripow,
13 March 2015