Love and Angst

It was one cold night when I texted you that I couldn’t sleep for the nth time that week. I rapped your inbox with messages that were too petty to matter for someone who’s as happy, easygoing as you but for someone who has my kind of thoughts, my kind of pain, my kind of soul; every word I sent was a direct statement that summed up my life and how it’s going downhill.

I was too scared that moment, too haunted by the fact that after knowing my little, capricious fears, you’d leave me just like everyone else did. I was scared to lose you because it would take a million fates, a myriad of wishes for someone to love a girl like me; who’s thoughts never sleep, who’s heart is never at ease—scarred, broken, played with, who’s smile never lasts because happiness for me is but a subtle flailing gift, who’s eyes never lie, I wear my heart on my sleeve, I love hard and real—never less, always more. Finding someone who’ll love me is but a chance out of all chances—slim and dwindling through luck and pity; that’s why, I was afraid that you’d walk away, because once you would, it’ll take a thousand burnt wishes and dreams to have you replaced, to have someone love me, because after all, who would love a sad girl, let alone one like me?

Nonetheless, after all that happened, I prepared myself; I was ready that you might leave. You walking away didn’t mean that I’d accept and heal instantaneously; it’s just that what can a broken soul like me, do to stop you anyway? I take what I get and that’s how I’ll live.

Yet throughout the misery that I placed you in, you waded and stayed afloat; you stayed and dwelt and loved and endured. You listened to me when everything I was saying didn’t make sense, when everything that came out of me were manifestations of the pains that I’ve felt, you loved me all the same—without a doubt, without a word of quivering, without fear. I was in shock, I saw everything as an illusion, a trap, that’ll befall a soft-hearted, deep girl who saw the world as an endless mire of love and chances.

I admit that sometimes I push you to the brim, that I placed you in corners where all you can do was endure and listen to my unending notions of brokenness and angst; but nonetheless, you were still there, just like you promised. 

It was tiring for me, to have to think every single day that within a blink of an eye, a flick of a thumb, you’d be gone; that maybe you were wrong to jump with me, that you’d regret knowing me, that after all the bidding and the tears, you’d finally realize that I was complicated to comprehend—that I was hard to love.

I know nothing of tomorrow but I know one thing, that once in my lifetime, someone dared to love me, someone tried to piece the puzzle; that I have been trying to put together all my life. Yes, I’m getting tired; yes, we aren’t perfect; yes, we know nothing of this life; yes, we are to be tossed and turned, to be beaten and thrashed to the seams but it’s comforting, saving, worth living to know that I have you with me; to suffer with me, to laugh, to cry, to live in this race they call life.

I guess that’s what makes this love worth every scar, worth every reason—to fight for.