The rain and cold weather have been making me feel melancholic of late. Somewhere in the past, when grey clouds hovered above the land as they do now, I was happy and perfectly content with the presence of the man I loved. My once home. My comfort. My refuge.
I go about my days chasing the same feelings I did then, only to feel crestfallen.. As if being in the same place I had been with him, except that this time, I'm all by myself. The same gloomy skies used to hold his warmth and wrap me with it, and such was a beautiful combination.. But the safety and security I once knew well are all but gone. Now, there is only cold and nostalgia, a sharp mix of warmth and grief, where memory is both comfort and torment. I smile at the sweet memories in the same breath that my heart burns with aching desire. Desire to take it all back... Desire to go back in time and savour every second of the days when he adored me most earnestly, in his own teasing and imperfect ways.
"This is not fair," he was complaining.
"What's not fair?" I asked.
"Your voice is a weapon."
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"I don't," I insisted, genuinely confused.
"All you need to do is talk and I melt."
"Oh, shut up," I said, rolling my eyes but feeling the blush creeping on my cheeks. "You're stealing my lines."
"I'm not."
"I thought by weapon, you mean when I command something, you do it," I told him, chuckling.
This made him laugh. "You wanna put an Imperius curse on me?"
"Yeah."
"How is that fair?"
"Well, I've been under your spell for a while, so it's my turn now."
Whenever we had a conversation I didn't want to forget, I wrote them down, hoarding them like treasures. I thought one day they’d serve me, that I would use them to tell our history when we finally made it to the end.
Today, I scrolled through them and came upon this one.. back when my voice soothed him. Back when he needed to hear it after a busy and long day.
How sentimental .. Because I stupidly am. I am utterly, and most embarrassingly, a sentimental fool. I document moments and conversations I want to keep forever because I don't trust my brain to store them alone. I document exchanges that I could use for my book because, yes, I wanted to write a book about the story of us. But there is no book. Not anymore. I lost all of my will to write it now. What's there to write? What good will it do me when it turned out to be a tragedy? In the first place, the idea was conceived in my head out of a naïve and optimistic belief that he and I would end up together and spend the rest of our lives by each other's sides. Time and time again, I'm constantly reminded that that's all in the dumpster now.
However, even when that beautiful ending was torn to shreds before it could even write itself, my sentimentality and stubborn hopefulness still flickered from the grave upon watching Michael Scott from The Office never losing hope in believing that he and Holly would find each other again and be together in the end.
"I didn't find the perfect moment, because I think that today was about just having today. And I think that we are one of those couples with a long story when people ask us how we found each other. I will see her every now and then, and maybe one year, she'll be with somebody, and the next year I'll be with somebody, and it's gonna take a long time. And then it's perfect."
I hate Johannes with all my heart, but deep down...
Deep, deep down.. I wish upon the stars that all the heartache, the betrayals, the anger and hatred, are not an ending but a detour.. That they were all just part of the universe's grander plan and that we, too, were one of those couples with a long story.. 😔