It Wasn’t Love, It Was A Perfect Disaster

I hope the waves can wash away all my memories of you.

But how can I forget?

I knew the moment your gaze met mine of what I was getting myself into. You came with a warning but then with eyes wide open, I allowed myself to melt into the perfect mix of ocean blue and emerald green that is your eyes. From afar, I have been wondering of the world that is inside you. I wanted to know more than just your name. I wanted to know more than just what interests you. I wanted to know of all the storms that make you the person that you are. I wanted to know about why one day you are all about sunshine; then the next day, you seem so consumed by the dark. Damn it, I wanted to be the reason behind the glimmer in your eyes. I wanted to be the first person to catch a glimpse of your eyes as you wake up each morning– that split second of nothingness just before we begin with yet another affair with life.

Those awkward stolen glances made me want to believe that maybe, just maybe, you wanted to know about me too. My name, perhaps? Or was it only a product of my imagination, enkindled by the unusual attraction that I had for you? I honestly could not keep up with the number of times my heart went overdrive whenever you turned your gaze on me. The mere sight of those beguiling hues of blue and green was painfully beautiful that I was always taken into a universe only you had the power to take me to.

That universe, as it turned out, was never the one that I belonged with. Yours was full of lines and shapes; mine was all about shades and colors. You breathe exact science, viewing most in this world with facts and figures; while I am caught up with the endless confusion and unpredictability of human emotions, trying to understand and communicate of what is rather felt than seen.

But then we tried. We dived into the ocean of probabilities and allowed ourselves to immerse in the vastness  of our differences. It was challenging, and a bit liberating, trying to figure out how we could work.

And in the center of it all, we found our common ground.

Love, probably.

We rode through the current but as we worked our way around, the things that bound us together eventually took its toll on the world that we tried to create for ourselves. The differences that once served as our foundation slowly got the best out of us and created resistance that love, alone, could not resolve.

Love, probably, was not enough to keep our story going. The intensity of our emotions could make or break us- and if we chose to insist on continuing what we started, we may end up destroying each other.

Or maybe it wasn’t love. Because as complicated as love can be, it is supposed to weather any storm.

It doesn’t fade the moment things get hard.

It doesn’t leave you wondering what went wrong or if you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t love, it was a perfect disaster. While love is supposed to last and build you up, the perfect disaster unexpectedly shows up and crashes you seemingly beyond repair.

You, my perfect disaster, sure had taken the wholeness out of me. But the broken pieces that you left are enough for me to pick up and rebuild myself.

To believe again.

To try for one more time.

Love is supposed to make you whole; and someone will come along to complement what you already are.

But then you will come across your perfect disaster- someone who will crush your soul and make you question the possibility of meeting someone as great as he was.

Hang on.

The perfect disaster often leads to the one great love that you are praying for.

Or could it be that my perfect disaster be the love that I’ve been waiting for?

Until then, I will let myself be consumed by the perfect mix of ocean blue and emerald green that is your eyes.