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Promenading on the Fine Line


Tuesday, May 30, 2017 @ 4:08 AM
"May 31st."

I remember, two years ago, perhaps maybe 10pm at night, the significance of our conversation. I met up with you outside the bar because I happened to be in the area and I wanted to see you. I didn't have my ID so we hung out outside. T and S were there, and T was poking fun of you because we never really established a real "date" of when we got together, and that you never really made any "official" moves to initiate it. I was in the midst of moving out, so I said my goodbyes and you walked me back home, like you always did. Before we went in, we stopped and had a long conversation outside my apartment; we were talking about the uncertainty of our worlds colliding after graduation. I grew upset over something small, but you were able to make the negative feelings go away. You always did, even if it hurt you too.

You turned around and faced me, you held my hands so warmly, and the distance between us was slowly disappearing. All the nonsense that spewed out, was because you deeply, truly cared about me. You explained, and at the end of it all, you exasperatedly said those three, tender words, and suddenly I felt the world stand so still with the moon illuminating the feelings unspoken. I felt only our presence and nothing else, and your words caressed my heart so deeply that I needed to pause for a moment to take everything--your touch, your eyes, your words, your warmth--in. I felt my heart could explode from all the happiness contained in it. Without a doubt, you made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Muttering those words just made everything feel so... real. We joked around right after. "Should this be our anniversary date? May 31st? Or should it be June 1st 'cause May 31st is weird?" I remember then discussing with you how we both felt about the concept of anniversaries or monthiversaries and whatnot. I remember I rushed into my apartment, with you trailing behind me, and eagerly whispering to J's ears and holding her so tightly, sharing her the news.

We managed to pack everything in my apartment away, and I moved in with you for a week or so (with all my excessive belongings at your humble studio) until I moved back home.

The details begin to be a massive blur because I spent almost every second outside of work with you, but I remember the feelings associated with that time so vividly. I loved how you loved me and how you cherished every part of my soul, ever so delicately yet so strongly. You hummed the sweetest words and I blushed every time. You made it known to me how much I meant to you, every day. I loved the way you spoke, the way you wrote, and the way you carried my heart so passionately.

I remember the night where I felt passively aggressive over a small detail and (poorly decided) to take it out on you, but you chose to take it in and you took my hand, placed the other over your shoulder, and with the music playing in the background, danced to the slow rhythm of the beat. I quickly pulled away in hesitation, but you still attempted to calm me down and danced step by step with me. It made me blush so heavily with embarrassment, swaying side to side and eventually twirling around, only to be pulled in and then embraced by you shortly after. This is possibly one of the fondest memories with you that I adore so much. That was the very moment where I knew you were the one, the one that I wanted to be with. The one I wanted to be vulnerable to, the one who I wanted to share my deepest insecurities with--the one who I wanted to share my happiness with.

As I write this entry--needless to say--my trickling tears turned into a rushing stream. I can't handle the memories, and they were all coming in so vigorously like waves that I couldn't stop them. I still don't know 'til this day why it's so difficult for me to move on. I know by now that you are in a better state, possibly even with someone else that you confide in. It makes me happy to hear that you're piecing your life together, yet I, I don't understand what's causing so much of this pain, because really, I just wish only the best for you and that you find your happiness.

Huh. Thinking about it now, I feel the kind of pain you get from losing someone dear to you. Someone you loved so much, but at the last moments with them, you do things you regret doing, and then now they're permanently gone from your life. Like they no longer exist, and even if they did, they no longer acknowledge you. I feel the pain of someone you loved, who died, and is never going to come back again.

You once told me that love grows and fades like flowers. That we need to water and work on it together. But you never told me what to do if the flowers wilt and die, but perhaps, that is something I need to figure out for myself.

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