| I ponder every single day and night, before I tuck myself to bed and before I close the lights and wait for another late night call from my lover, why in fact he stays with me. Why with all my temper tantrums, my frequent outbursts of frustrations, and mood swings ... why?
To the world and in front of many friends, it's all smiles. And we truly do mean it. The both of us are happy. There are rarely any instances where we fight in the streets or cause dramatic unnecessary scenes. And the best part of all is that he's always looking out for me whether I step 2 inches away or 2 feet away. So I know I have nothing to worry about or keep watch over because he's keeping watch over me. And every inch of disagreement can be resolved by a mockery of the other or a simple phrase: "you're a buttcrack."
But behind closed doors, and when the other has promised that they would call the other late at night once again, I turn into something that I usually am not. I become mad, in both the positive and the negative connotation of the word. Not necessarily mad as in angry, but mad as in crazy and out of my mind -- totally losing sense of all rationality. In the most plain words, we do in fact argue when the call comes, and unfortunately sometimes in deep heart-wrenching intensity. There is whining, there are screams, there are threats that we often regret making, there are blood pressures rising, there are hidden truths, and sometimes, there are indeed losses. The truth is, in the end, there is only one question left to be answered -- I do not know why he stays with me.
He says it's because I'm all that he's looking for and that his journey has finally ended when he's with me. And he has no problem reminding me as he decides every now and then to hold me in his arms, stroke my hair, and tell me that he loves me. And his voice is so soothing that I swear it came directly from an angel. In fact, it was his voice that I immediately fell in love with when I first met him. And though sometimes I confuse it a little bit with his kid brother Andrew's, after a while, I know which one's my baby's voice. It's the one that makes my heart skip a beat every time I hear it.
I look at my lover several times when he's sleeping peacefully with my red & white satin sheets around him, covering him up like parachutes in the sky, and I ponder to myself, "Why am I so madly in love with you? I've been in love before. I've felt other hands, experienced other heartbreaks, and have done plenty of unreturned sacrifices. Why do I find myself in tears when you're not with me? Why do I make everything you say or do a big deal when it doesn't have to be? Why must I carry on an 8 hour long phone conversation with you even though I had just seen you 2 minutes ago? Why is it a requirement that you call me EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE? Why do I have no problem handing you my heart on a platter than to see you walk away? Why when you leave, I cling on to you like I'm never going to see you again?" And then I just stop thinking. It hurts my head too much and it starts getting hotter by the second.
So I decide to walk around my room, touch a few papers, read a few notes, and sit down on the edge of the bed. And then I smell something. I smell his scent, his heavenly scent that wraps around me in place of his arms. I notice the jeans he wears and I notice that on this particular day, he's wearing a shirt that I love to see him in. When he wears it, I like to think that my husband had just come home from working a hard day at work and the only thing I feel like doing is hugging him for days. I love how he dresses ... It's just a simple thought. And he keeps waking up every now and then, but falls asleep once again. He's like a baby trying to get as much rest as he can because time seems to slip away too fast.
And I'm so sleepy as I'm writing this. I want to preserve such a loving memory and all I can muster out of my brain are simple words that can never do its justice when describing the man I love. I'm struggling to call him at this very moment. I keep revisiting this page, trying to stoll time to the best of my abilities. My fingers are touching the key pad, but they are not doing any dialing. Maybe I'm scared that I am in fact too attached ...
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, partying & dancing 'til you couldn't feel your legs, being on the rebound, midnight walks in the city, meeting the love of my life 