I’M NOT RUNNING AWAY, I’M RUNNING FORWARD.
it is in the little things that compound into bigger things, is what he would say.
i watched a movie called “happily never after” which is one of those snarky movies that kids should be watching with parental supervision. i saw the sequel when i was a child, that one was much better. but all the dialogue and ridiculousness of the scenes made me chuckle so hard that i wanted to call him right then and there to ask if he wanted to join me.
i saw a series of beautiful sunsets day after day that looked like cotton candied skies. purples, blues, and greys above me, and all i could do was take a picture and hope he thought of me as he thought them beautiful too.
there was a heavy rain pour when i woke up and all i could hear was a comforting whisper in my ear to, “stay warm, my love.” all i could do in that moment was play his favorite song on loop and remain asleep for the next few hours in the sheer agony of not being able to hold him in my arms. i know he misses my warmth.
while reading the bible, there were these verses that could’ve been taken out of context with a funny voice we would’ve done. my heart combusted as i read it aloud with a snort, and nobody laughed. but he would’ve. he would. he will, when i tell him in the future.
unsure of what a butterbeer was, i tried it and didn’t enjoy it. i finished it anyways cause he hates wasting things. it was soda with a sweeting syrup. two things i didn’t like much. with every sip, i’d gag and continue drinking it with a little laugh in my head of how he’d think it wasn’t too shabby.
stop hiding it.
what?
stop redacting the truth.
of what?
stop hiding the fact that you have been having a hard time. you don’t have to put up a face.
stop pretending it’s easy.
it’s not and that’s okay.
is it?
yes. it is.
okay…
i guess this is all to say that i miss him
and i hope he’s fine
that i’ve been sad
tracing liechtenstein with my eyes closed
— i miss you, vansire
in receiving my paychecks, i jumped up and down like a little girl. it wasn’t much but every centavo counts to the future we’re building. i brushed my fingers against the grains of roughened, used up bills, mixed with the freshly produced and printed ones. ever so tangibly, i was holding the results of every day and night of wearing those mary jane high heels, dressing in corporate all-black, talking like a jordan belfort, hardening like a robot to persevere through everything. its been easy. its been difficult.
my routine isn’t set in stone. some days are endless hours of staring at a laptop screen. other days are days of meetings, after meetings, after meetings. other days are a mix of both. but some things are consistent. the way i wake up with contentment that everything is and will be okay. the way i continue to read the bible everyday, studying at my own pace. the way i try to eat at least one meal per day, despite my stomach only being able to handle only half my regular portions.
the way i work everyday, and try to relax my brain with songs from our playlist, reminding myself of how capable i am to progress and endure. the way i go to bed with an emptiness in my arms, but fullness in my heart. the way i hear his voice throughout the day of what he would say, how he’d laugh, how he’d react, what he’d love or gag at. the way i miss him every waking moment, but feeling that settling dust of contentment and peace that everything is okay, and we will be okay.
but there are days. days like a friday where i wake up feeling unsettled and tired and fatigued and empty and confused and sad. it’s our day. it’s still our day. but i’m so sad. i can’t go back to sleep even though it’s already sunrise. and all i can do to stop myself from violently sobbing against the kitchen floor is play songs from our playlist.
some things just, some things just make sense, and one of those is you and i,
and even after all this time, i’m still into you, baby, not a day goes by that i’m not into you.
— still into you, paramore
if not the playlist, then a video of when him and i hung out, and his voice gently looms in the background, i’d hear his laugh and it would remind me that warmth is all around me. he has never left me. i have never left him.
it’s not often that this feeling happens, and i’ve been forgiving in myself that it will happen. because i care. because i care so much.
it has been easy. it has been difficult.
working has been hard. day job, night job, trying not to fail classes, and learning a lot all at once. it takes a toll after tuesday. that’s when i purposely unwind so i stay sane. i suppose there have been a bunch of sudden changes in the same time frame.
apart from being unable to talk to him, my brain feels like it physically rips everyday in the tiniest of tears to expand capacity for everything i’m absorbing. i’ve been reading so much but i don’t have a place to store all this data. a point keeping me sane is that i’ve been intentionally and successfully surrounding myself with ladies.
i was walking to a friend’s house to drop some snacks off, when i ran into an old friend, who ended up accompanying me since the sun was setting and i was unfamiliar with the area. i wanted an excuse to run. i wanted to open my live location with him and tell him i was staying safe. joke about how i’m dora the explorer. i was listening to “opalite” on loop, thinking of how his birth stone is opal.
the whole time, i was so distant towards my walking companion while being friendly, catching up. when he dropped me home, it was all business. brofist and a lot of distance even when standing next to each other. and every male individual after that was quite the same — all professional.
in times like those, i’d feel sad. sad that i wish i could tell him about these little things that compound into big things. sad in hoping he doesn’t feel bad that because of us, he’s unable to have one on one’s with ladies for a while. sometimes i wonder if it burdens him. or if it makes him happy that he has an excuse to mind his own business. sometimes i wonder if he misses me too. if he feels the pain too. if he still loves me, or maybe loves me more, the way i’ve been loving him more and more everyday even after the anchoring point where we had to distance ourselves.
sometimes these thoughts feel like they would spiral into something worse, and i have to put a road block because the lies start merging with the truths. and i remember that he loves me. and he does take me seriously, otherwise we wouldn’t be doing this right now, nor working hard for our future together. and i remember that this man…is everything i could’ve asked for and more. in the muses and mundanes, in the milestones and mileage. and i remember how he knew he wanted to marry me when we hugged for the first time. and i can’t bring myself to doubt anything between us, because we are so undoubtedly real in everything that we are, have been through, and will go through.
there are two teabags he bought to my house that we were supposed to drink together. i haven’t had the heart to drink them. there are some things i find comfort in being frozen in time in my room. like his designated towel on my office chair. his toothbrush being safely tucked away from any dust. the soap he’d use ever so still on the shelf. his designated mug only being used by myself. the ice cubes waiting for his return. his jumpers in my closet or in bed with me. our letters and polaroids either scattered on the walls or neatly packed for my regular reading when i need an endurance boost on a hard day.
it’s strange how he has infiltrated my brain. i no longer feel pleasant wasting food. i switch off the tap when i’m not directly using it, like when i’m washing dishes or brushing my teeth. “bungus,” i’d hear him say in my head with a wag of his finger to my face. i still always freeze ice cubes. i do my laundry more regularly, and sweep the floors. everything has to be relatively clean and neat. i know he’d appreciate me building these habits for us. not much of eating outside food, and bringing home-cooked food to uni or work. saving money and eating healthier. he’d squeeze my cheeks if he knew how consistent i’ve been, then pat my head, and call me a good girl, and i’d look at him all angry with my nose scrunched up.
saving money has never been more motivating, even more, enjoyable. nothing like the thrill of doing my daily accounting, monthly tracking, quarterly projecting. nothing as satisfying as seeing my money being left untouched, or reflecting a higher series of digits because i didn’t buy the coffee i wanted just cause i wanted a coffee. no to the clothes i don’t need. no to the snacks i’m not truly hungry for. no to spending an unreasonable amount on street food, ice cream, and little treats throughout the day. yes to bringing my own food. yes to tracking every dollar spent. yes to discounts and getting crafty with how to save on data, transfer fees, VAT. yes to splitting bills with people so it’s cheaper to try things. yes to having a daily budget so i don’t go completely insane for my meetings. yes to only drinking mostly water.
then i get to thinking that i hope he’s drinking more water too. i hope he stops stealing his aunt’s coke, and reduces all that take-out from his diet. i want to cook for him everyday. then it hits me again, how much i want to add extra portions into my daily meal preps that he would eat healthier too. drop them off to his class. i miss him. i’m reminded of when he gave me a grilled cheese sandwich with “choccy” chocolate milk i said i wanted, and chocolates for my sweet tooth. he cried that it was all he could do for me when he wanted to do more, but that the victory of being able to do it was worth it. i don’t think he knew how much that moved me.
that maybe my heart is in the shape of a grilled cheese sandwich, or a choccy carton. maybe it’s in the shape of everything we have together, to which i’m unsure what shape or form that would take, but i know it’s surely beautiful and vast. i miss him, it aches. i miss him, it heals.
no movie is as funny. the lyrics of songs are not as deep and pattered. photography is but taking still images of things in specific compositions.
the world is still full of color in full bloom, but i want to share all of that with him. life is more colorful when we’re together, that we share all the moments of joy, sadness, anger, frustration, embarrassment, craziness, everything, together.
i share these things with others and they’re memories made. but it’s the way he would specifically do, say, or act things out, it’s him that makes everything more special to experience. that movies are deeper than they are, songs have more layers, water is easier to drink, food is a fiesta in the mouth.
all of these accumulate as to why work can feel hard sometimes, and easy most of the time. i’m not running away, but running forward.
every day, all the hours of breaking myself more and more to be smarter, kinder, more patient, agile, and preserving, and more. every week, the rolls of paychecks and feedback from clients that tell me i’m on a steady path for us. every month, the differences that tell me all we need to do is work and wait. all the more, i’m not alone. he’s with me. i’m with him. in everything.
in every week where he sends his share, in everyday that we work and study hard despite the distance, every book we read, all the chapters we commit to. the fact that he sent me our reading program, or that he still adds songs to our playlists, he still wears our rings, he still sends me his share with messages attached…i could never doubt that we choose each other and truly love each other every single day.
i cry with joy when i think about that level of assurance we have in each other. at least, i do. and i have a feeling, he knows it well too. i cry with joy in realizing that he lives in me, around me, and with me every day. then i remember to guard fridays. because he would want me to rest and not be a corpse when he gets to hold me again.
then i journal how much i love him. i substack about how i schizophrenically talk to myself hoping the wind lets him hear my words. i wear his clothes and remember that my warmth for him is indeed infused into his very being despite my petite figure being unable to produce as much heat. movies get entertaining again — that i’d shortlist all the good ones for us to rewatch.
like the one i’m watching right now, “confessions of a shopaholic” where every clumsy scene of second hand embarrassment makes me want to hide behind his shoulder and clench his arm laughing my butt off. i miss his mind, his jokes. i miss how even the simplest of things would be layered in patterns and connecting points when he assesses them. i miss how we would openly joke about everything. i miss his squeeze on my arm when i make a really bad joke. i miss his dimples when he smiles. i miss the tune of his exhalation when he can’t figure something out. i miss how he smells. i miss his morning breath. i miss his face when he’s sleeping and drooling all over.
i miss him. every part of him. even the parts he doesn’t like. even when he’s upset. frustrated. i want to tell him to have more patience at home even if his grandparents can be grumpy, his parents can be loud, the house can be messy. i pray for him everyday that he’s okay. that his family is okay. i miss his mom. how she’d order food catering to my allergies. i miss his brothers. how autistic they can be in pretending to be a magician, or in waking my love up when he had night shift work. i miss his grandparents and their shyness when i’d speak in english. i miss him, everything of him, about him, everything.
it’s strange that i can’t text him updates about my day and images of what i’m doing. it’s strange i can’t call him and talk about our days. or sleep. or pick outfits. or debrief events and conversations we had. it’s strange that i can’t cook him food and drop it off at his place. it’s strange that i would pass by his house, but wouldn’t stop at his lot. it’s strange that i don’t know his exact daily routine anymore or what changes he may have implemented ever since. it’s strange.
it’s strange that i like the idea that he still blows a kiss when he passes by my house. that he still wakes up every sunrise for our growing gallery of images. that he wears our rings when he sleeps. that he has the trinkets i gave him scattered around as a reminder that i’m there. that he talks to our piglet pair when he gets stressed, thinking the air would carry it to my piglet that sits at my work desk. that he uses the pens i gave him. that he cuddles our bear every night. that he sleeps with or in the clothes i gave him. that he smells the perfume i left him with when he misses me. that he would look at pictures or videos of us and remember that we are very much alive, and very much real, and very much working towards a future that is tangible and closer than we think.
i like the idea that he knows what kind of ring i’d like and is finding ways he can have it be procured before we meet again. that if he’d start working, he’d secretly have a fund to get us our rings. the idea that he already knows my ring size and jewelry preferences, that i only like silver and dainty designs, that he’d find the ring at the right size or have them made. that when he proposes, he would say how he had been holding onto the rings for a while, he already knew i was the one he wanted to marry, was just waiting around to finally propose formally.
i like the idea that he’s abusing my bible with notes and post its and indicators of things he found thought provoking or funny. that he’s using my ipad to watch chess videos while studying or looking for work. i’m left blank at what he’s doing most of the time since we can’t talk, but there’s this strong reassurance that he’s okay and will be okay. that this discomfort is good for him to grow and prove that he’s serious about us. that he’ll study for us. earn for us.
that when we get married, i couldn’t even joke that he doesn’t love me because of how committed he was to me even now. how faithful we’re remaining to each other even now. i couldn’t even entertain a wisp of doubt because of how much we are enduring now, that we still love each other, and choose each other.
it’s not a walk in the park to love each other
but when our fingers interlock, can’t deny, you’re worth it,
cause after all this time
i’m still into you
— still into you, paramore
we’re not running away. we’re running forward.
we choose each other everyday.
we love each other everyday.
i pray for you and your family everyday.
i’m not going to lie, its been really hard to sleep every night with how much i miss you. i sleep but keep waking up every few hours with my arms frantically looking for you, my mind confused, my heart in ache. my body knows you’re not physically here, and it cannot fully rest. the only comfort i have is sleeping with or in your clothes, and hearing your voice while i sleep…i miss your physical presence. i remember you saying i was your peace. i understand now. you are my peace too, you are where i feel most secure. you are my warmth and where i belong. the thought of you napping or sleeping next to me helps me relax, and finally get some rest.
i miss you, and i hope you sleep in peace even if we’re unable to touch right now. i pray every dream you have is bright and lovely, of the wonderful future we’re building. not of “losing me” or nightmares of lies, but of our strength to persevere, and our genuine love for one another.
there are days where it’s hard. i listen to our songs, watch our movies and shows, and look at our pictures and videos, read your letters…i’m blessed to be ever so surrounded by you. i hope you feel surrounded by me too. i love you, always and forever. that’s never going to change. everything reminds me of you, please believe that my love for you is true. i choose you every single day, my love.
your clementine, te quiero,
🍫.