It is a story that’s meant to be told. It hasn’t seen the end yet but it has seen a number of ends already. The beginning was just too magical that it can stand on its own. It started with running away, with leaving the past behind and not being afraid to be alone. It was supposed to be the beginning of her hiding, yet, just like the pot of gold that symbolized hope and optimism, she was found… underneath the chaotic pile of emotional baggage that she humorously called to be “her fortress.”
They weren’t strangers. Their faces looked familiar, in fact, a little too familiar that smiling at each other felt natural. It felt like they should have been doing it since forever, at least to her. Her smile was one of those smiles that she gives when there’s nothing to be said… and his was an awkward one, a smile that needs to be construed every single time. Their story started with distance that either protected or prevented them from coming to that point that has been a part of infinitely numerous stories, the cheesy point of no return. Poor distance couldn’t stand its ground anymore, slowly but skillfully, they inched their way into each other’s lives, with glances, abrupt beginnings, conversations that crawled into their souls… their hearts. The glances turned into stares, the beginnings were transformed into a series of short stories, and the conversations, oh, they turned into confessions, poems, songs and sometimes, into black and white movies reminiscent of emotional boldness.
Then came the twist… an eyeball-rolling, shitty and crappy expected twist. They did fall. They did not fall together, they fell apart. They fell in love… not with each other, but with the idea of having each other. It was so perfect that the idea had to be found somewhere else, in someone else. Both of them were so afraid to ruin its perfection that they both let it slip away. It was so perfect that It had to get fucked up. The stares became looks of longing, the conversations were transformed into moments of agony, of concealed pain, their confessions spoke of what they think can be uttered concealed in shallow jokes. The poems were turned into sad songs and sometimes, the romantic black and white movies just refused to play anymore… their emotional boldness was defensively clothed with hypocrisy, compromise and white but caring lies.
They knew it was it was nearing the end, they were being jolted out of inaction by circumstances. So, they started to run away…from each other. They could’ve run away together. They could’ve come to their senses. They could’ve fallen together… they could’ve seen the miracle that their hearts can create intertwined. They could’ve. She would’ve loved to. After all, she did wait… for a long time. From the moment that he let her in on a childish, foolish but sweet secret. From the moment he let her into his soul by getting lost in her eyes. But he never bothered to ask. He didn’t even stop… he breezed through the whole thing and moved on to a new adventure. Now, all that are left are memories… realizations that this story hasn’t seen its end but it has reached another abrupt ending.
Maybe another twist is written in the stars, or the sun, or wherever it is supposed to be written... only this time, it wouldn’t be an eyeball-rolling, crappy expected one. Maybe after everything, they both will get better from the disease that they have inflicted upon each other… that disease called fear and denial. Or maybe this really is the end. Who knows? Maybe love just took a wrong turn but is on its way. After all, it is an always ending love story. Nobody wants it to end. What everybody wants is for it to unfold… endlessly.
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