I wonder, does it ever occur to you that I really do love you?
I mean, even when I don’t tell you?
Like, even when I don’t say it out loud?
What if I don’t look at you with my sincere eyes?
What if I don’t flood you with my heart emoticons, lambing voice clips, and the labyu’s that you usually don’t reply to… pero.. Hay okay na.
What if I don’t make you see how jealous and clingy I really am when it comes to you?
What if.. what if.. what if.. puro what if’s.
But beyond these what if’s, would you still know? Would you still feel it? Would you know that love really exists in the distances of our minds and our closed hearts?
Because it would break break break me into tiny pieces if you didn’t know. If it doesn’t occur to you that I really do do do love you. And this is the exact reason why just the thought of keeping a small distance between us hurts.
I don’t want to be sad.
I don’t want to be all puffy inside and gloomy tonight. But it was a random thought.
I really hope you know.
And yes, it’s hard. It’s I-can’t-find-the-right-word-so-please-let-me-use-complicated. It’s… it’s. It’s something both sad and happy at the same time. But I need to know if you’re as happy as I am. If, just if.
I’m a bit sad that this post is full of if’s.
But if you do manage to pass by this, this is to remind you that every time I tell you, “I love you,” or every time I say, “Labyu” (in person, through text, DM, WeChat, calls), I mean it. I really do. The feelings are true. Love is there. Love exists. Love exists and though I can’t say between the two of us, at least, in the distance -that small, shallow, space- between our physical bodies, and our souls.
And again, I love you. From the tips of your hair, to the soles of your feet. Even deeper. Just, deeper.
Love defies the principle of time. 11 months, and I want you to know that I have never loved anyone before the way that I love you now. That I extremely do. That I happily do.
And please, please, bear in mind that when I tell you I’m happy, I really am happy.
And I just hope, even when the hope I’m gripping on is as tiny as a single grain of rice, that you’re happy just being with me, too.