Chapter Text
Dec 1
Is loving someone ever worth the pain? That’s the age-old question. I guess, at the end of the day, yes, it is. I do believe it's worth it.
The pain feels unbearable and all for nothing sometimes, like I'm drowning in an endless ocean with empty promises of land. But even then the sea is majestic and magnificent, and though I may be drowning, I'm basking in warm golden light that can be seen by no other. I'm basking in a glow that's mine.
Maybe in a way, I do enjoy the pain. That ache deep in my bones when his name crosses my mind, or that squeeze in my heart, the sudden feeling of suffocation in my lungs. I wonder if there's something wrong with me, sometimes, for I have mastered the art of yearning and made it my own. I say I hate it, and I would do anything to finally grasp for purchase and find my footing in this sea of melancholy, but the truth is, part of me secretly loves the feeling of drowning in his warm light.
I say I would change things if I could, but if it came down to it, I would always choose to want him and meekly hand him my own heart if it means even the slightest chance of finding his love. It's true that it's scary, horrifying in fact, and I'm sure if my friends saw this they would look at me with worried glances, doubting my sanity like they've always done, but the truth remains. If I could have a do over, my only regret is not finding you sooner.
I'm starting to doubt myself, wondering if I truly love you, or have I fallen in love with the art of yearning for you. Isn't that funny? Earlier today I was asking myself – why must love be shameful? Hidden away like a dirty secret, barely whispered in the solace of our own minds like confessing a terrible sin? To love is to be human, and being human is never shameful. It shouldn't be. But over time, the fear of rejection that love always seems to bring (because let's be honest, love always comes with fear), the fear of hurting has become the fear of yearning, and thus love becomes fear itself. This ugly, once beautiful but shy feeling transformed into an ugly fear of love. Love becomes something shameful, until we void ourselves of our feelings and push away our most desired loves.
Alas, life is often a tragedy filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. But for me, maybe sometimes during the journey, I've learnt to live with and even love the heartbreak itself, as much as the hope. Because no heartbreak means I have no more hope, and I just always, always hope. That's why in a way, I have come to love the pain, simply for the fact that in it, exists the wavering promise of you.