Closure

 

 When it’s time to live and let die

And you can’t get another try

Something inside this heart has died

You’re in ruins

It’s a week of closure, in both life and love. On Monday, I received a letter from Churchill saying that I’ve been pooled and I know already that being pooled is that you are too lousy to be accepted, and not what they say – that you’re too good to be rejected. I know, Cambridge has perfected the art of writing rejection letters for the past few centuries and hell, they’re bloody good.

But I still can’t help hoping that I might get an offer from one of the other colleges, however remote it might be as the days count up. And I still lament the missed Oxford test that could be. I guess I will brace myself for a formal rejection letter next week. But I like to congratulate myself for making this far. 😀

Tuesday night

I sent a heartfelt letter to her, on Nick’s ill-given advice. (Fml I shouldn’t have listened to him considering his love life revolves around games and clubbing) I spent the better part of the day milling around the vehicle shed, leaning against pillars before finally deciding that the interior of the Terrex is a good place to be. Simultaneous smiles and tears that made for an emotional afternoon as I typed out the 1000 words on my iPhone.

It was a long letter, sort of a love letter, but not quite one. It was a letter written specifically to elicit a response from her, no matter how negative or positive it would be. It was a contrived piece of prose that would never, ever be me. I hand-write letters of love. But I just felt the need to send this out and sorta be done and over with it. It is like writing for college admissions. And so I decided to send it by email. My heart is confused and I’d like to stop this. It talked about our experience, my thoughts, my feelings on oh-so-quiet nights. I meant every word I said though, every intense emotion, every intense action.

When I finally clicked SEND, it befell me – this love story ended before it really started.

Thursday night

And I was broken.

A random Whatsapp message from her inquiring about my Cambridge news. None I replied. I got fished out of the pool she replied. Great, just great. I wished I could join you at Cambs, then we can be together for 4 years but I just sent I am so happy for you. Though I was hoping you read the letter I sent you. She said it straight-to-the-point because I didn’t allow her to sugar-coat it. I was hiding under my blanket and shut my eyes and threw my phone on the bed next to me (much as I’d like to toss it out of the window, I paid $500 for it) when she said what she wanted to say. A 2nd rejection.

It’s surprising I could control my tears, but I guess I could because I already knew what her reply would be. Subconsciously, I knew that this relationship would be hard to work out, not to mention the possibility of an LDR even if it did. Because it went too fast – I didn’t really know much about her at the end of our first date – and a relationship is firmly grounded in understanding, the other being trust. Moreover, she doesn’t seem to be committed to a relationship yet, from the various incidents that I infer. Commitment is a two-way kind of thing. I’m probably comforting myself after all that had happened.

She’s a great girl – one that I’d like to spend my future with. Smart, independent, bubbly, cute. So it’s hard not to think about her as just a friend. But I know I let things go easily, not just in matters of love. Quarrel with my mum? I’ll chat with her as thought nothing happen in the next hour (She’d still be fuming mad thought) It is also because I was in the same class as my previous love for a good 2 years in JC, seeing her hook up with another friend in the same class as a left-by-the-sidewalk stranger. It was at that time I regretted matching my RA/subject combination with her so that I could be with her in the same class. Heck, I even had an argument with mum over my resolve to choose RA. Right now, I am revisiting my previous blog posts about her like this one with a note from her. Amused to see how she not know then why we managed to end up in the same class. It’s been an enjoyable 3+ years with her but judging from my posts I’ve never really got her out of my mind a year on.

I regret writing that email, hated Nick for telling me to do so, slapped myself for eventually sending it. But I did, and I got the reply I did not want, but prepared myself, to hear. I remembered a 2-hour-long conversation with Miss Wong 2 weeks back when I was immensely confused about her. She asked Why do we let someone we don’t really know so easily into our heart when we don’t let them easily into our home? Why do we give them easy access into our heart when we don’t give them easy access into our home? And Miss Wong offered a view that I might not have realized myself, that I give my heart away faster than most people so I will get hurt more often and more easily. Oh and I made her choke on her drink when I mentioned something I probably should not say here. My answer was that I enjoy the feeling of being in love – I want to love and be loved. I crave affection not because I lack of it, but because I want more of it. I guess I am setting myself up for disappointment then, because love is elegant. And elegance cannot be rushed. Anyway, she said it 2 years ago and I still agree with it today – that God loves us and wants the best for us but God doesn’t give us the best right from the very beginning because He wants us to be more mature and really treasure the ones we love.

1 Corinthians 13 – Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (…) And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Friday morning

I woke up, hoping that the previous night was a dream within a dream. I read my last message and realized everything did happen.

Let’s just be friends…

Let me be quite blunt about this…

Good night. Sorry.. ><

Sometimes I wished I have never asked her out on a date at all but I’m thankful that I had. For she changed me.

Because of her, 1 day before I made an emergency call to JS telling him that I needed to buy a good shirt for the date. My wardrobe looked like it has been salvaged from a donation dump – my only long-sleeved shirt was really formal and the rest I’d dump them than wear them. And I started to buy so many clothes because I wanted to look presentable. Heck, I’m happy with bermudas and T-shirts but that doesn’t quite cut it in the future. Fashion +1.

Because of her, I started exploring new places. I was very much in my comfort zone when it comes to eating venues and places to chill out. I now live to eat, rather than eat to live. I can actually recommend a few good places to go to for breakfast, brunch, lunch, tea, dinner and supper because I went to recce all of them with my friend. I see a part of Singapore that I never quite see before.

Because of her, I had my first true love. It’s unlike that 3 years with C – an unspoken friendship-relationship that both loathed to acknowledge. She is the first person that I felt unusually blessed and blissful to be with. And that evening is like a video etched in memory – one that I can replay back at will. But I know I won’t.

When I messaged my mum about the end of this, she replied – You dared to chase her. You must dare to let her go. And part of me really wants to convince the other part to let her go. I think she is no longer a part of my life, though she still acknowledges me. As much as it pains me to admit, she likely doesn’t think about me. Her days probably turn into months without ever fondly looking back on the time we spent that evening walking through the Gardens , watching the flowers bloom and holding hands with our fingers laced. Those memories doesn’t exist for her — or, at least, not in a way she has to acknowledge. I have to live with these memories, constantly nipping at my ankles and reminding me wherever I go.

I know that it’s not her fault. But I want to let go. I want to walk away from what we had and make every day a conscious step towards something more positive, something where I don’t factor someone into my life who no longer cares about me. I want to be brave in a way I always used to be, but haven’t been for some time. I want to return to the me who laughs at jokes the loudest and is always up to try something new. I miss her, and at times have almost forgotten who she is. Part of me believes that the moment I truly let her go will be the moment I get her back — that she is, in a way, crowding my life and preventing me from living fully. But I know that it’s not a step she can take for me.

I love her more now than I ever did, I think. And I know that part of this must be because I cannot have her, and things are always heightened with desire and longing. But I don’t know how to pretend that I don’t still burn for her the way I did when I was allowed to express it, if not more intensely.

Though unlikely, if you happen to be reading this, please know that I’ll stop reaching out like I used to. I’ll stop making a fool of myself. I’ll stop being this person that I never wanted to be. I am working every day on making my life something beautiful and fresh and interesting, something that has nothing to do with you. And I hold nothing against you — even if I wish I could, even if that would make everything so much easier — but I know I can’t be around you. I’m working up the courage to phase you out of my life (and my mind) completely, so that one day you can enter and leave as any other pleasant acquaintance might. Because I’d love to just run into you in a grocery store one day and have a nice little chat about what we’ve been up to, then go about my day as if nothing happened. But right now, I know that I couldn’t  I know that seeing you unexpectedly would destroy me. One day, I will get there, though. I’ll be me again, and I’ll have forgotten this brief interlude of sorrow.

I hope you meet me when I’m that person, so you can forget who I am today.

I close this entry with a meaningful quote for the future : –

We should love, not fall in love – because everything that falls, gets broken.