To my future lover, soul mate or whatever you call that someone you knew you have been waiting for since forever…
I know you’re out there. Though I don’t have any way of knowing your exact location right at this very moment, moreover your exact time of arrival, I can theorize multitudes of possibilities about your current whereabouts and the probable causes why you’re still there. And I am here…
The Man Who Can’t Be Moved. The idealist me, yes the romantic one—the one who suffers from insomnia due to her unstoppable and overflowing imagination—still believes and hopes, without ceasing, that somewhere within this realm, you exist. That under the same vast sky that keeps falling on me, you sit there in your beautiful stillness, waiting for me.
I can imagine your patience, staying there transfixed and unperturbed. And so is your resistance, ignoring all outside forces trying to lure you into their charms so you finally get up and leave that seat. I can almost feel you lingering, hovering as you refuse to settle for something you definitely know not worth settling for. Because you know, you always have, that beyond those distractions, at the other side, awaits someone, not better nor prettier nor smarter, but who you have been silently looking for and longingly yearning for. And that you feel it in your heart, and in your soul, and in every cell of your being, that one day soon you are destined to meet her, to love her and be loved by her. That of all people across this universe you are the one fated to save her and be saved by her.
I can sense your excitement—how you have always wanted to hold her softness within your arms and be held by her captivating stares, how you have always longed to enchant her with your passionate kisses and in return be enchanted by her mysteries and complexities. I know this is not impatience but that pleasant and delightful feeling of anticipation, of looking forward to something unknown but certain. That feeling that keeps you going. I can almost hear you sigh… Until then, I hope you hang in there. Because here I am, keeping the faith.
The Disillusioned. The realist in me understands very well your disillusionment. The long, endless and uncertain wait is tiring and wearing. I cannot blame you if after too many attempts you finally resorted to a safer and less scathing approach dealing with this matter. It’s easier and more convenient. And it’s human nature, I guess. To live the moment and be contented with what is in front of us. No it is not surrendering. It’s fighting a new battle, a conquerable one you learned to accept. I can fully comprehend that.
Maybe you are married now with beautiful children. After years and years of futile waiting, impatience must have taken its toll. And it is not so surprising that you at long last gave up the hope of finding her. And eventually, the hope that there exist a soulmate. How could you not, when you found someone to share a normal life with. You are compatible. You both know how to compromise. You understand each other. An ideal set-up, I presume.
Well, as for me, I wish I could find someone I could make myself fall in love with despite the knowledge that he wasn’t you, that he couldn’t be you. Because if I couldn’t do that, then I am doomed to this singlehood for the rest of my life.
The Relentless Seeker. The clumsy, or is it the stubborn, in me is partly to blame for this never-ending game of seek-and-seek. Maybe I had seen you. Maybe we had already met—in school, at the train on my way to work, in another town, it could be anywhere. And I was just too idiotic to recognize you. Too busy waiting for someone I didn’t have the slightest idea of whatabouts, I never bothered. You came and you left without me noticing you. Maybe I was too damn coward to acknowledge you. Too occupied with unwarranted fears, I dismissed every possibility together with all emotional awakenings associated with each of them. I felt and I ignored until you were gone.
Or maybe it was you who failed to notice me. Maybe it was you who refused to see me beneath this façade of coldness, this pretense of nonchalance. You missed me. I missed you. We missed the only chance at mutual bliss. And so you moved on to another field of hopes and probabilities in search of that someone. Undaunted, not a bit disheartened, you kept pacing. Promising yourself you will find her.
The Notorious. The rebel in me recognizes your own defiance. And I cannot take that against you. After waiting, hoping, failing and then waiting again, you must find this cycle tiring. And, yes, it is revolting to realize how long you have been inside it and how many times you hit rock bottom.
So you grab at every opportunity in hand and hastily take advantage of it. Mindless of what that makes you. Uncaring if you break hearts in the process—even if that heart happens to be yours.
You rebel against time for not being a good ally. You rebel against fate for playing its trickiest of tricks on you. For the irony of it all. For the unfairness you witness as you watch everyone’s happy-endings unfolding right before your eyes. You rebel against me for not being there when you thought you were ready for me. For not recognizing you behind the mask of hostility and the veil of conceit. For my doubting and unreadiness.
Please do not wander off too far. Do not lose your way. I promise you I will get there. I will get to you, someday, somehow. I hope I’m not too late…