it’s been a whirlwind month for me. and finally the music has faded, the tears have dried, and it has left my heart a bit battered but tougher than ever.
i sit outside my porch, stuart in my lap, my ciggies and a bottle of beer in my left. i usually sit at the left side of this spot, but as i am alone here tonight, i prop my legs comfortably on the other chair. i stare a bit at the new battle scar on my leg. it looks like it’s healing well. too bad keloidal talaga ko. but hey, i’m proud of these scars. they remind me of a certain point in my life.
the sky is still dripping. there is no moon in sight. last night while i was in subic, i marveled at the beauty of the moon and the crashing of the waves. the moon was big and bold although it wasn’t at it’s fullest – there was still a tiny jigsaw puzzle that was hanging. i presumed it was my heart that was missing there. i had my legs up the balcony again – a scene too familiar that i cannot help but remember the salty scent of that also great august night.
just recently, a wise man asked me what was love to me, since i was a bit too eager to tell him that love was a big word to just throw so carelessly around. he further urged that the fact i was so eager to define this big word, i would have more or less an idea on how it looks, or feels – just like a good apple must be red, crunchy and juicy – i must have known what good love was all about.
this was a debate between a 20-something, on the verge of getting drunk, movie-holic cowgirl and a man who i even dare not try to guess how old he is but with age comes wisdom. and by the looks of it, as he was calmly sipping through his alcohol, i was the one losing this match. age has definitely won against beauty this time.
not that i’m complaining though, i love being around people who can push me to my limits, allowing me to get outside of my cocoon (not that i need much cajoling) and to freely say what i want and mean without being judged for the words that i say, or the actions that i do.
it’s just that there are too many “bob”s in my head to be able to define it. taking it socially and historically, i grew up in the “fairytale era” where the prince saves the helpless princess from whatever predicament she is in and then they ride the white horse and live happily ever after. after that, the other bob takes over. now what? life wasn’t supposed to end there. even horses get tired, and sunsets turn into sunrise. there has to be more than just riding into the sunset.
maybe it was in a book, or maybe in a conversation with another wise man, but someone once told me, just let love be. it’s true that love is such a big word, so who are we to actually encapsulate it into one single meaning? i’ve been lucky that maybe once or twice in my life i have felt that great rush of love, for a day, or a week, or maybe for a single glance, but i knew, and we knew it was love. because we have just let it be. complicated, mad, saturating, tiring, nauseating even. and you know what? it was never the ride off to the sunset.
let me digress a bit. i have found great love with great friends. friends who know when to bite their tounges or hold my hair as i puke my brains out. there are those beg and scream for me to let go of their skin as i bite into it out of frustration, and in the morning as i say sorry, would just say, “just don’t do it again” with the assurance in their heads that one day i will do it again and it still wouldn’t matter. friends who would stay up with me until the wee hours in the morning just to extract and compartmentalize the different bobs roaming inside my head, and there are those who just keep on driving as i cry on their shoulder, offering a pathetic tissue in hopes of me not putting snot all over their shirts – and if ever i did, it wouldn’t matter. is there no truer love than this as well?
and maybe that’s why poets, dreamers and even great scientists try to define what this love is all about. because no one has the true authority in its definition. we get frustrated and marveled by how such a feeling can drive people crazy and revive them back to sanity all at the same time.
in the end, we are left with scars, scents and scenes that we can –
that we can what?
i’m not so sure if i am happy that i know the next lines to this entry made almost 5 years ago. and the same scars, scents and scene are very much well alive in me. but defining love? i’m not sure i’d be as eager to answer the same question anymore.
just. let. love. be.