wonton + beer = running on headlights

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. --Anais Nin

This is the thing with passion, the all out giving of oneself, the giving of every fiber of your being. It starts innocently enough. Little inconsequential things like maybe your time, your thoughts, your voice on certain things like the best place to get your paper stash. Then, you wake up one day and you realize that those wonton-and-beer dinners turned into scenes ripe for life-changing discussions, opening your soul up, in a way that you can never afford to do now. Belatedly, always too late, you think that you shouldn’t have free-fallen, that you shouldn’t have allowed that spilling over onto territories that you can never define. As if defining things make it clearer in daylight.

Then you wake up one day and you realize that there is nothing left of you. All because you wanted to give, more and more each day. But what for, you might now ask? Why do you give of yourself and then run on empty? When left alone, you get the sense of being run over by a truck. Strange, you saw those headlights coming, had time to even read the plates and yet, you didn’t run away.

This is the bitch with loving. Or with thinking you do, anyway. You give yourself unconditionally, joyfully and expect nothing in return. And yet even when the smallest of kindness is denied, the pain of not knowing what you had is magnified a thousand times.

You don’t know her, because she didn’t want you to. His memory taints your present happiness. So much so that even if your dreams are coming true, you can’t help but still feel in sharp stabs for those moments. For what, one cannot be sure. It is when old wounds still hurt and you can’t find it in yourself to put on that game face.

She has since stopped asking why. Asking might give her the answers that she needs, but now, those answers don’t matter anymore.