I have — as I usually do—blabbering about dreams that are aspired to be achieved. I want us to do A, you want us to B, and so on. Anon, we shall achieve all the lists, by going little steps. If one or two don’t meet the checkbox, who cares? For dreaming is a pure tale.
Truth be told, I have a dream I genuinely want to reifed as something that is barefaced—to be the pain killer, your unwinding tools. It’s, in a nutshell, just a yearning of mine that 3 to 4 years from now, we will always approach each other with a smile painted in our faces aside the ugly days we just went through. A yearn of mine that I will always find you, seated in a chair or your vehicle, and both of us smiling from miles away. A yearn of mine to always be able to touch your soft hair and pull it if I may, to listen to you talking, to witness your absurd and dirty jokes, to help you, to see you grow, to see you in between your beloved friends, to see you with your camera someday (I hope I have mine too at that moment), to see you being a good friend and brother that you are.
To say I love you is an understatement. While it is indeed a strong word, love is still not enough to be said to the person whom eyes are truly compassionate. I love you, but love doesn’t represent how settle I am, how I was pummeled with realisations that what I thought was messy, is in fact, not. Love doesn’t represent how crying became something I’m not afraid to do because you’re there. Love isn’t enough to represent how getting a gentle caress could solve so much. Love isn’t enough to represent how to think about someone could ease up the uneasiness I’ve held in my chest. Love itself doesn’t represent how nice and fun it feels to love you. Like it’s an unpaid job I’d wholeheartedly do.
I have adored your presence, and still am. I have celebrated your birth, and still am. I have thrown some bad words, and will throw some again if you’re continuously teasing me (this is a request, to be fully honest). I have felt blessed to be loved — even the unfix part — by you, and still am. I have felt happiness to love you, and still am. For loving you is a painkiller for me.
Huge lie if I say I never withstand an apology to you. Huge lie if I say I’m familiar with the affection, kindness and compassion I was given because in fact, I’m not. To receive this much isn’t something I’m familiar with, but I can’t imagine losing the love that you give. Nor could I to love this much, again. I wanted to thank you but it will give pressure even more than what everyone gave sooooooooo, I don’t know … I guess it ends here. I mean, not us but the writing. Thank you for making love a fun thing to do.
