Love Bites

I used to think that if I stop talking to a person, we have ran pass the line of fate and that our season has passed. It's always hard to let go, to move on and to cut ties. Above all else, to feel the lost, to weep in grief, to experience that heart wrenching pain of knowing that that person will no longer and can no longer be a part of your life, to be the one left behind and to be the one who is staying, it's hard. Everything feels simple, feels easy until you think of it and go through it. Love is intensified by the absence. We sometimes hope and wait. Like the women of fishermen who have gone to sea. We stand at the edge of the waters, scanning the vastness of the sea and into the horizon for that tiny ship. Praying that our men will return to us.

How does it feel to be the one waiting?

Each passing moment, each waiting moment is as transparent as glass. You go to sleep alone, you walk alone. You work until you are tired, you watch the children play and you hear the patters of rain. Everything resonates loudly. On some days, you wake up and feel like you are in a dream. One of those dreams you realize you forget to study for an exam you are taking and you are wearing you pyjamas out on the streets. And you have no money with you. The saddest thing is that this dream doesn't go away.

There will no longer be someone to catch your tears, someone to hear your rattles, someone to pick up your calls at wee hours in the morning, and someone to call your own. They may still be there, but they are no longer there when you need them. It is not their place to be anymore. It is not their number you should dial anymore, not their hands to hold when you fall and not their ears to whisper to.

Love is a strange and funny thing. Love is an invisible string that ties two heart together. It is the conductor that orchestrate a symphony in your hearts. Love is a verb. It is an "action" word. Not just a proclaimation or a declaration of affection but rather as a promise that will be put to actions. Love as a commitment. "All you need is love." "Love hurts." "Love is a many splendored thing." "Love is a dog from hell." The clichés and jabberwocky of love spill forth from even the most skeptical poets. We always buy into the experience because, like age and death, it's the one damned thing that nearly everyone will suffer in our lifetimes. It's never easy.

In an unflinching honesty through an uneven concoction of nostalgia, sorrow and terrible insights, love makes you wait. You do not know how great those feelings can be until it hits you with a ton of bricks. Someone says to you, steal a car and drive it off the cliff and you asked, automatic or manual. That's the trouble in waiting for somebody special. You become numb. You might even suggest to set the car on fire before driving it off the cliff.

There is no one defined feeling. Neither can it be articulated into words. Others simply refuse to acknowledge that the lost can be consuming. They figure if they cannot see it, maybe it will just vanish, like a scary ghost. But that is like giving up on our dreams and ourselves. We just do not hear the tiny sobs that echo in those empty hearts. Even if we, how long can we live with it for? We should never give up on ourselves. Even if others do, we don't. If we care enough, we will talk about it. Why have we stopped doing so? I now realised, the reason I stop talking to a person, the silence, is because I have given up on that person.

Perhaps I was too willing to believe that every relationship had a shot no matter how bleak it look on the surface. We believe that by standing at the shores, we were being good women. Faithful. Resileient. Stupid. Strong. Those damned details bites you where it hurts. When your life is no longer such a dream, reality bites and sinks its teeth into you flesh, promising to get the best of you. The best of you should be left for the best person for you. Don't let it go. Forgetting someone may be impossible, but ignoring someone isn't. Time waits for no men, so should every women.