November in Taiwan.

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Sometimes, love is not enough.

They say broken hearts make the best writers. I don’t know if I’m a good writer, but I do know that I have a broken heart. It’s been a while since I wrote anything, well, outside of work.

You know, Lana is right, sometimes, love is not enough and the road gets tough. I don’t know why. You can love with all your soul and all your heart, but sometimes, even that is not enough. You learn a lot when you love this much, and I’ve definitely learnt a lot. It’s an eye opening experience really, I never knew I had the capacity to love another human as much as I’ve love my ex. Even calling him my ex feels like a wound tearing itself apart.

Love is a mystery. Even after centuries and centuries of epic love stories and misadventures, it seems like no one can quite put a finger on how it works. But I do believe that love is a choice, and I chose to love him everyday we were together, even when it was hard. Add about 10,000 miles, 12 hours time difference and a couple of oceans between us, I’d say we did pretty damn well, staying in a long distance relationship for over 3 years. I don’t think many people could have pulled that off and I am proud of us.

Long distance is a bitch of a thing. Even when we knew what we were getting ourselves into – we cannot be right by each other when we need us most, we cannot have the normalcy that couples do, can’t hold hands, can’t give kisses, can’t get hugs, no movie dates, no fancy date nights, not even a normal night in. We knew. We knew it was going to be hard. We were ready to face come what may, we were fighting like hell to make us work. I think there is an illusion, an illusion that a long distance relationship is an epic love story, because of the idea that love can keep us together even when there are oceans between us. And in spite of the shitty hand of cards that were dealt to us, we still managed to fall in love and be in love.

To outsiders, we were like this successful LDR love story. It was like as if we were the main characters of the greatest love story of all time. Don’t get me wrong, for so long, it did feel like we were against all odds. People were happy for us, rooting for us. I was prepared to work through anything, as long as I had him on my side. We knew that we will eventually be in the same place, at the same time, and we could finally start a life together. I could face anything, because I knew we believed in us. It was great, until it wasn’t. I don’t know what it was, maybe we started fighting too much, maybe there were too many bad things that happened that were out of our control, maybe the distance finally got the better of us, maybe love was not enough anymore.

The first two years were amazing, we were both drunk on new love, we had goals, we were prepared to make us work. We traveled together, we went places, we did things and we were on top of the world. We made an incredible amount of happy memories that I now look back at and still smile myself silly. I remember what exactly happened, and what we both said that made us smile so wide in the photos. I counted down to the days before we were back in each other’s arms, and I cried myself ugly when it was time to leave. I still did towards the end, of course I did, I still love him.

We did have some things in common with normal couples though. We fought. We fought over almost every tiny little thing, but the difference was we couldn’t really kiss and make up. Fights are hard enough as it is, fights over text is a nightmare. At first, we were both hotheads – as soon as one of us got mad, the other got even madder. It was a disaster, our fights were huge, and the causes? We probably cannot even remember it now. It took me awhile, but I did learn to back down, not because he was right or I was right. I learnt to back down because I hated going to bed with us mad at each other. I learnt to back down even though all I wanted to do was to scream and throw things, but I backed down because I chose to love him even though we were fighting. I must have not learnt that fast enough because we’ve had so many ridiculous fights, the seeds were sown. But it’s okay, I did learn to choose love in the end, despite all odds.

I loved boldly. I did. I took a leap of faith, and I flew 10,000 miles and appeared at his doorstep that one time we broke up. My friends had thought I went crazy, but they also knew that I love this boy with every strand of fibre in me. I love my friends for that. We did make up, and we had a pretty amazing time together. That was the last time though. As with all last times that we’ve ever had, you would have made it last longer if you knew. But there was no way you could know something like that.

I freaked one day, because I hadn’t heard from him for over 30 hours and we have never done that, not unless we had a huge fight. It turned out that his phone just wasn’t working right. I figured that this was the trigger, the distance finally got the better of us.

I think that we still have love for each other, I really do. At least I still do. But love is not enough this time. We just started texting again, talked about his cat, asked how he was doing, talked about being friends. We probably shouldn’t, but there is an overwhelming sense of comfort and peace knowing that we’re talking again. My friends tell me that I deserve better, that I will find someone who will choose to love me. But I don’t need better, I’m okay with now. I will be okay.

3 years in long distance is probably like 6 years in a normal relationship, sans the dates and the physical contact. It has been an amazing 3 years of my life, if I do say so myself. At 27, you’d think that you won’t have many more firsts in your life. But I did, because of him. I saw the sky, filled with billions of stars, right in the middle of a country road for the first time. It was beyond magical, I would have stayed out all night if it weren’t for the cold. I hung a hammock to a tree, as simple as it may sound, but there is nothing quite like lying in a hammock and reading the afternoon away. I saw fireflies, it scared me at first as all bugs do, but I was surrounded by a bug net, and it was quite magical. I sat around a campfire, beside the love of my life, and there was no place I’d rather be. I built a snowman for the first time in my life, and I realised that it is hard as hell.The snow may seem all fluffy, but dear lord is it heavy. I saw snow for the first time, a lot of snow may I add. I finally accepted the fact that I love the cold but I cannot really withstand it. He would always make fun of me: “I thought you loved the cold”. I ran through a corn field, I stole corncobs, I rode an ATV through a forest. I slept in the parking lot of a Walmart for the first time. This all may sound ordinary as hell, but for a city girl, I wouldn’t trade these experiences for anything in the world. It may have very well been the best 3 years of my life.

I know that this love, if it had a fighting chance, was the kind of love that people write and dream about. Romeo and Juliet, Cleopetra and Mark Anthony, Paris and Helena, Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy, Bonnie and Clyde, Han Solo and Princess Leia, Ross and Rachel. Nicole and Derek.

I saw my future with him, I did. My wedding pinterest board was all about him. You know shit is serious when your wedding board had his name all over it. It was a future I refused to give up on, I thought that when you find someone who makes you look forward to tomorrow, you fight like hell to keep them in your life. He was mine, and I fought like hell. He said the same thing to me more than once, he said a lot of things to me, I don’t know what happened to those things. He has had the worst hand dealt to him, I don’t blame him for anything really. How could I?

He still gives me butterflies in my stomach, every time his name lights up on my phone, my eyes light up. Nothing has changed, yet everything is so different now. I’d imagine such a different ending for us, one that was much happier, one that ended with us having two kids and an amazing future, playing pranks on each other even when our hairs were grey.

Someone asked me, if he had changed his mind, and came back to me, would I take him back? I didn’t answer her because I knew my answer would make her mad, and she knew what my silence meant. Because I would, without batting an eyelid. It’s not the easiest love, but it is the love my heart wants. If choosing to love him this time, means that I have to let him go, then I don’t think I have a choice, do I?

It hurts, still. But I think I’m managing because I know I fought really hard. I may be battered and wounded all over, but I fought. I tried everything I could, just shy of moving to USA. This boy will always have a special place in my heart, and I will always love him. I will move on, someday, maybe when he finds someone new and delivers me the final blow. But today, today I’m okay. This is what love does, it fills your heart and it shatters it.

Home was where he was. This is what happens when you make homes out of people, you become homesick and sad when love is not enough.

Sadness.

It’s quite startling to finally realise how sad a person you really are. You never know how melancholic you are until you catch yourself finding joy in things that are sad – like a sad book of poems for example.

Lang Leav brings out that sadistic, depressed creature that’s lying dormant inside of me. What’s more aggravating is that I don’t want to cheer up. I don’t want to be cheered up. I’m happy being sad and mopey, and even if I’m crying, I’m okay.

Sometimes it scares me to realise how sad I am and how okay I am about it. I’m a sad person. I like being sad. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but when you’re sad, you hardly have to care about any thing. Nothing needs to make sense, and no one matters. Because you’d be too sad to care. #hakunamatata