Ever After

I wish I could say it ended up like a fairytale: the prince and I meet, we fall in love, and then we live happily ever after. And for a brief time, I actually thought we would.  He was charming as a prince, after all.  Tall, dashing, smart, well-established, seemingly sensitive as a poet, and having an inner core of strength that comes with tribulations in life - a perfect package that one only reads in children's bedtime stories. But what attracted me most was the way he'd cry at things that would tug at his heart: a nostalgic kundiman, or even a touching blog post or two.

Here was my prince, ready to sweep me off my feet.

Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?

And yes, fall hard I did. As hard as one could fall in these circumstances.

We spent countless hours conversing about our fervent hopes and our deepest fears. We shared our plans and our intent for one another. He even cried once more when we finally exchanged I-love-you's.

Those words are powerful, aren't they? They are like keys that open your heart up, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. It creates an bond that is both hallowed and immutable. That's how much those words mean to me. I thought they had the same effect on him, too. But the moment he suddenly cut dead the communication between us, I knew otherwise: those I-love-you's he whispered to me were just words, barren and devoid of any meaning.

Days passed, and he never returned my texts. He kept on canceling my calls. I was left groping in the dark, burdened with so many unanswered questions. Worse, self-doubt and insecurities started to rear its ugly head once more. What was the matter? What did I do? What did I not do? Did I do too little? Did I do too much?

I spent the next few days staggering around, lost in an agitated daze. 

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The proverbial pen proved to be my lone solace. In the midst of my emotional turmoil, I wrote of all my pain. I wrote of all my hurt. I wrote of all my bitterness.  I spewed out words that were jagged and acerbic. I spewed out words laced with venom.  I spewed them all out until I had nothing left but the numb feeling of emptiness.

At the end though, I decided not to post them. It was enough for me to undergo catharsis through writing. I was already unburdened - there was no need for a public outburst. Raw feelings are best left in private, where they remain a sacred scar imprinted upon the heart.

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I wish I could say it ended up like a fairytale: the prince and I meet, we fall in love, and then we live happily ever after.

Sadly, it did not.

But no matter. That the love may not have lasted ever after is missing the point.

The point here, I feel, is that I have loved, truly and honestly.

And that my heart, though weary and battle-scarred, still knows how to embrace the word "hope."
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To the unnamed one, I still recall the night you asked me if I could sing your song. 

And I would have, with all the care I could muster. 

But your song song remains still unsung; an unrealized series of notes and words written out on a sheet of paper.

I bear hard feelings no more. All I wish for is that one day, you may find the singer to perform your music.