I can’t wait for the time when I’m in an

“unconditional relationship” with somebody.

A relationship where the love is not “blind;” in fact, it will have no blinding anything. All of my imperfections will be laid out for his senses and each of his to mine.

I don’t want us to have anything in particular in common except for the common need and acceptance for each other.

Because by the difference in our beliefs, lifestyles and backgrounds, conflicts are likely to occur. And in these conflicts, I will be able to freely express my weaknesses, my flaws and my insecurities. Lay them out there in the light all vivid and crystal clear without any fear of rejection attached.

I can’t wait to have a relationship with somebody who will know my imperfections to the bone. Somebody who knows it all and is not afraid to fight—but will never threat me with flight.

It won’t take much for like to transition to love, as it will for love to transition to hate or apathy.

Love can never transition to plain dislike. It’s something everyone learns the hard way—you do have to like someone before you love them, but once you love them, once you are in that territory, you won’t have to like them to love them.

You will be reminded of this quite frequently, and the reminder comes in different forms. Shallow forms such as a pimple, or a full-blown break out for that matter, five, ten, twenty more pounds, occasional disagreements and arguments. And then there are the deeper and heavier, all collectively described as the things they do that or to hurt you. You can dislike them so much, but for the love to go away is not sequential. Influential, yes, but never automatically sequential.

The line between liking and loving someone is not just blurry, it is thin as well, like a thread. Often times it is very effortless to fall in love from being in like. If anybody had difficulty transitioning, it is because they had trouble expressing or declaring it usually out of fear of rejection.

But to fall out of it, ah, takes so much effort from the heart, the mind, the body even. That’s why it’s easier to impede love with a higher degree of hate. We can only hope out of desperation for the love to go away.

Because coming up with reasons to dislike won’t work. You don’t always like and love someone at the same time.

Come on, tiger, prove them wrong. Throw a lighted matchstick to the doubters. I hate when they whisper to me “truths” as they say. That I deserve better, you’re a jerk, that I should have known, that it’s not worth it. And while I love them for the defense, I’d love more for you to prove them wrong. Set their whispers on fire.

It’s not that hard, tiger. All you have to do is lift a finger. Prove them wrong. Show them the person that I know. You know how it’s easier to judge a stranger? Because all you see are their actions. It’s all black and white, right or wrong, good or bad. But if you know them, there are no stupid or mean things they can do to you. You always trust their intentions, you trust the reason behind all of it, and you can’t hate them no matter how bad they treat you.  You get hurt, but you trust the person you know is just going through something, that eventually it will get better. You know how that is, tiger? This is kind of like that.

Anything, tiger. Don’t let them win.

“At least you learned a lesson”

What lesson?

What is this lesson to be learned that everyone talks about?

To be careful next time? To choose who to trust? To take it slow?

Because frankly, if I was back in that car with you, had I known all this would happen, I still would have kissed back. And if I was back holding the phone against my burning ear, I still would have told you all those things about myself. I still would have spent my Christmas money to buy you something I knew you’d like. I still would have drove all the way. I still would have sacrificed that much sleep. That much everything.

What an ambition, to be able to take a lesson from a heartbreak, to learn the right things to do and the right things to say at the right place at the right time, for a next time, so it won’t have to happen again. What an ambition it is to give someone up for a lesson and trust in a next time.

If trusting you was a mistake, then that’s OK. I’ll never learn. At least at that moment, during that fleeting moment, I trusted you with bits and pieces of myself. I don’t trust a lot of people. If going too fast with you was a mistake, then that’s fine. I’ll never learn. At least in that moment, in that fleeting moment, you and I had kissed, and I don’t ever have to wonder the rest of my life how it must feel. All those fireworks and icicles. If putting up with you was a mistake, then that’s alright. I’ll never learn. At least in that moment, during that fleeting moment, I was yours. I didn’t tell you, maybe you already knew, but you had me. At the least.

There are hundreds of lessons to learn from this ache in my chest, but I’m taking none of it. This is how I love. This is me. What will I use the wisdom for if I lose you?

I inhaled all of it, all of the musk from deep down the nylon. I would put it against my wrist to admire for a few seconds, then I would bring it closer to my nose and sniff it. There was no way to do it quietly, so I had to make sure nobody can neither hear nor see me in the act. How weird would it be to be seen savoring a purple nylon bracelet like it was a bar of chocolate? I couldn’t not close my eyes, otherwise it would be a waste. Because the only reason why I would sniff it in the first place is because I missed you. I missed you too much. And as I sniffed, I had to close my eyes and imagine you there, me against your chest, or else I would have sniffed it for nothing. I would have used up the scent for nothing.

It’s funny how much emotions that scent can evoke, and through nothing but my sense of smell. It didn’t rage like the wind for me to feel nor did it hum for me to hear. It was as simple as me trusting that it was there without having to see it. Kind of like you. You and me. Us.

The scent only lasted a good five days, but I wouldn’t blame it on me and my sniffing. I blame you and your disappearing. Inhaling the scent was the least I could do for myself while you were away. If you were around, and the smell was left to evaporate at its own pace, then maybe it may have lasted a little bit longer.

Now I’m left with nothing to hold on to. Even your handwritten note is not as strong a signature as your scent. It’s tangible, yes, but it doesn’t help much with remembering.

I’m not ready to exhale you yet.

Let me put the flashbacks into writing. Okay?

Just in case it’s over.

I may never know the difference
between happiness and mere content,
but that’s okay.

Because each night
moments before falling asleep
I fold my hands on my stomach

And think of this beautiful house
Paid by the sweat and tears of my beautiful parents
And my beautiful dog who’s been with us for five beautiful years
My beautiful helpers
My beautiful friends
Some near, some far
His kisses and how he looked at me that night while sitting on his couch
How my prof knows my name without looking at the seat plan

And I couldn’t ask for anything more

Nothing more
Not even cake

I may never know the difference
Between happiness and mere content,
but that’s okay.

I can die today.

I’ve only cried over you twice in my life.

The first time was on a sunny Saturday morning. You called me up to make plans, like you had done all week. I put the phone down and realized how it had exactly been seven whole days of phone calls, of making plans, of trusting the existence of something between us. It’s like we didn’t even have to talk about it, we didn’t need no assurance or confirmation. I was so happy that I just broke down… I never understood “tears of joy” until that day. I’ve cried from physical pain, from a harsh break-up, from arguments and goodbyes, but never from sheer joy. I was feeling no pain at all and I just lost it and broke down.

But tonight was different—almost two years have passed and you made me cry for yet another reason that you and only you have caused at this point in my life. You ran to me in tears in so much pain from a heartbreak. All the emotions you were feeling were so vibrant and I guess that’s just proof of how well I know you. I sat there listening to you trying to come up the right things to say. But as I spoke, I slurred. My voice went shaky. I took the chance to look away whenever you blew your nose. It was so hard to see you like that and I don’t understand where all those emotions came from.

I’ve heard hundreds of stories from all of my other friends much deeper than what you’re going through. I can tell them to the bone what I think about the whole situation and I’ve seen them cry a nasal kind of cry where you could hear hiccups and genuine breathing difficulty.

But there you were with just a single tear rolling off your cheek every two minutes or so and I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t look at you. It required effort on my part not to break down in front of you because that would just be weird, wouldn’t it?

Please, please, please, please, please stop crying.

Huwag ka sanang magtaka
Kung minsa’y hahanap-hanapin ka
Matapos tumakbo
Papalayo sa iyo

Huwag ka sanang magtaka
Kung minsa’y ipagtutulakan ka
Pagtapos ay mamimilit
Na magpayakap ng mahigpit

Huwag ka sanang magtaka
Kung minsa’y magsusuplada
At hihilain kang pabalik
Para magpahalik

Hindi ko sinusubok
Ang malinis mong intensyon
O ang mabagsik mong pusong
nananalakay at nanghahamon

Dahil ang bakod na halos
Di maakyat ng iba
Walang kahirap-hirap mong giniba

Huwag kang magtataka
Sa magulong asal ko
Sa magulong damdaming
Unti-unti nang nahuhulog sa iyo

Think back to the best times you’ve ever had and you’ll notice something in common with each one: you did not think. Mental activity was close to none. “I did not think” is the worst apology you can give to other people, but it’s the best excuse you can give to yourself.

It’s not about shutting down the brain completely. It’s not like you’re going to end up doing the most stupid thing you can if you don’t think. It’s about trusting yourself. When you start thinking, you’ll only open the window to moral reasoning and that just fucks everything up. Not you or not anybody knows what’s truly right or wrong. When you start thinking, only the possible consequences of doing it is clear and you forget about the consequence of not being able to do it all. And mind you, the consequences of inaction can haunt you far longer because it stays in your head and in your heart. Unlike consequences of action, they won’t go away with penitence or an apology.

So might as well not think. Don’t think. Lean in for a kiss when your heart’s about to explode. Send that honest text. Call the person that you miss. Drive the distance for a glance. Take the risk. Don’t think.

What are you afraid of, anyway? Judgment? Rejection? Regret? In the end, it all boils down to one question: if you’re taking care of someone’s trust, go ahead and think. Think twice. But if you’re taking care of your pride, don’t even dare.