It was by some unseen force, unknown to me even now, that murdered my cowardice, blinded my reason, and infused me with hapless courage- that I decided, against all remonstration, to meet with Stella, one windy day in Cebu, after years of outright silence. Days have passed by since, I have returned home, and have been struggling with great difficulty to write about (for I deem it necessary, for some vague reason) my date with my amiable ex. I recollect now with great fondness and vivid clarity, as if it were only yesterday, the moments that those two wonderful hours contained: of us walking closely together sheltered beneath a flimsy umbrella, of me talking to her whom for years existed only in my thoughts and dreams, of her mentioning her blog that only holds a single entry (a thought that made her smile which she tried in vain to conceal), having a curious slip-of-the-tongue, and of us loitering about the mall reminiscing, laughing, and pretending all the while to ignore the deafening palpitations of the heart and the uncontrollable paroxysms of the hands. It is amazing to me how she could make me that happy, more than anyone ever could or in any time I could possibly remember, so much so that I wonder if it was all but a dream. I never wanted it to end, but eventually it must, at some point- that of which was my waking. Yet, even after we have bade each other farewell, I remained enthralled by the experience and walked (or floated) amongst the shops of SM as if they were made of soft clouds; and I must have worn the most ridiculous of smiles for people looked at me in a funny sort of way.

Alas! What I have foreseen and feared as the consequences of my baneful decision began, unceremoniously, to torture me and at once shackled me into that dark cell of wretchedness and misery which I only know too well. The two hours of joy brought with it the forgotten past and all the feelings that I once tried so hard to bury, bursting out with such strength like an immense torrent that could not be stopped. Love thenceforth reawakened and, in fierce vengeance, freely bestowed upon me that familiar pain which no amount of liqour could benumb nor any sort of soothing could alleviate. For- she is not mine! And he whom she wilfully gave her heart to, the same person who touches her sweet lips with his, who feels the warmth of her embrace, who hears her soothing whispers, who beholds her smiles and know that they are his only (joys that I would voluntarily bleed myself dry to get back for an hour, a minute, or even just a mere second)- is not I! Oh, dear God- the torment of this realization is too much for me to bear. It swelled inside me, and wrenched, and gnawed, and tore me within, with such unutterable pain that I fear I could lose my very insanity. Heavens, how much sorrow can thou endure me to take? I weakened, in drunken wretchedness, and cried piteously (out of helplessness), and shed bitter tears as bitter as the tears that fell on the first day I lost her. I welcomed them all, like long-lost friends who once kept me company on many sleepless nights.

But I have no regrets, and that if I were to be confronted by the same dilemma again, I would not have decided nor have done anything differently (except, perhaps, to have tried everything in my power to prolong our time together, and pleaded with her to stay, even just a little while longer). This much I can say with certainty that I am compelled to say it again: I have no regrets, none whatsover. And I am glad that I waited on her and met her, despite my letter explaining my supposed absence, for I would have asked myself endless question of 'what-ifs' and would have irately pulled my hair at all the 'what-could-have-beens' if I had decided otherwise. I was happy, and that is enough. I shall relish the new memories given to me, as I shall savor the sweet misery that accompanies it, if only to remind me that I yet live and that I have a heart that can love still. I have realized, too, that perhaps my love for her was never dead, as I thought it was, and that it only lay in shallow slumber- to be reanimated fully by the slightest sound of her voice, by the comfort of her touch, by the smallest hint of her presence. That I still love her, I am no longer ashamed to say (as if it were a weakness, of which I am guilty of), and that I love her with a love that is deep and true as I have never loved any denizen upon this earth. I shall love her with patience, and will await for her- until her heart is free, until fate and the world have lost their will to oppose us, until I have resurrected the love she once felt for me (as she did mine). I will await, my entire life if need be, until time should shrivel and waste my body and steal from me all my memories, until the earth should reclaim my flesh and throw my heart to the worms.

I will await for her.