Sorry I had to take down all the posts.
This is a public blog, and it will soon change tone. :)
I found my copy of the book I wrote for the person I truly loved, and until now, love with all my heart. I remember asking her how she wants the book to be, and she had some pegs. Forgive me, I'm not really a professional writer. But I wrote her a 550-page story about a couple, Fae and Vincent, and it was much, much appreciated.
I never knew that some chapters would be relevant to me today. You might not know the story, but here are some relevant chapters (2 chapters) that sort of captures what I feel.
CHAPTER
47: BY THE PORT
Our first evening back in Stanford was spent on
the bridge by the port at Saint Hildegarde. With air moist by the salty
molecules from the crashing waves of the sea, the sky dark and ornamented with
a stellar performance of ghastly circles twinkling from beyond the atmosphere,
and with the unusual humming of Stanford night silence, Vincent and I wrapped
each other with our arms. We were so connected that our deep breaths seem to
have created a rhythmic flow, our souls communicating in vast widespread
corners of our own little world.
Somehow, I tried to cover up all the worries
with the increasing amount of happiness that I felt in lavishing the moment
with love and passion; with peace and unequivocal absence of worries; with
transparent serenity and optimism.
The moonlight shun the darkness that surrounded
both of us. Above anything else, I knew I had the best life has to offer...
It's cheating death twice and resolving the bitter fate that seemed to be so
surreal and unfair. It's being with someone like Vincent who was willing to
delve deeper into this world of ours, world he really did not have to know. He
stood by me against many other stuff. He loved me despite the fact that I was
unfit for him (or it was the other way around). Like the light of the moon,
Vincent was shining the pathway of my life. Somehow, I've garnered clarity and
purpose. Somehow, I knew where to
go and what to do in this life.
I breathed in.
He breathed in shortly.
We both exhaled simultaneously, letting go of
every inhibitions.
"I love you Fae..."
"I love you too, Vincent."
"It's been one hell of a ride, my love...
good thing you were there."
"I was there to make it even more
tough..."
"No, you were there to supply me
life."
"Vincent, I'm sorry I got you into
this." I leaned on him.
"It's okay, and don't feel sorry about
it." He brushed my head with his cheeks. "I know it was my idea
too."
"Will you ever get tired, Vincent?"
"Doing what?"
"Doing all of it... and being my
spring."
"I guess we have not begun. I have nothing
to judge..."
"So you think you will? You know, give up
in time?"
He giggled softly. "Baby, I will never
give you up."
"No matter what?"
'Well, I have some reservations... You know...
If I have to leave or hide in order for you to be safe, I guess I'll do it...
all for love."
I suppose I did not appreciate those last
words... I reacted with a smirk, then I sort of shook my head from left to
right in disagreement.
"Do you think we'll reach that point? I
mean, you and me sacrificing more than what we had already given up?"
"We'll see... But take this, I will never
EVER take away these words... I LOVE YOU, Fae, and I WILL ALWAYS WILL."
Vincent drew his lips closer to mine, and
moments after, I felt his damped soft lips touch my own, first plain and
gently, and then it soon hovered to a deeper, more intimate kiss. We literally
kissed the night away, warming ourselves with passion as the night unravelled
itself boldly upon us. Vincent touched my face and so did I touched his, and
together we both savored the flavor of love which we both have missed since we
embarked ourselves into the near-death trial at Thynghowe.
BOOK 1, Chapter 23:
And then it happened. Right in front of Vincent, the
wound on my left hand began to open. It was nothing like the wound on my
right—it was a dozen times more painful, in fact it was excruciating my whole
body. I screeched in strong and numbing pain, and I saw Vincent worrying too
much… It was time… My love for him has triggered the count… I am, at this
point, indeed fated to die.
“Fae… please,
can I do something?” Vincent pleaded, crying.
“Vincent… I… I
love you… but you must… go now… We can never be together… Never…” I said,
cringing myself to a curl as the pain severely affects my hand.
Vincent stood
up, slowly, almost too hesitant. He took steps backward, one step at a time,
and he was crying in grieving expression. He kept on saying I’m sorry, and I
kept on telling him to go away… And Vincent soon stopped, maintaining a
distance between us.
“I… I’m sorry
Fae, know that I will always… always love you… forever…” Vincent said,
pretending to be strong as he moves away, seeing me in my weakest situation in
life.
“I will, too, in
my remaining days…” I said, as I stood up… the wound has finished torturing
me—finally, I had another open wound. It was the last moment that I will be
seeing Vince face to face, but the distance between us seemed to be more than
it was.
“I hope you live…
Please… do something about it.” He said.
“I will try to…”
I answered, weeping.
“I… love you…
and please… don’t love me back.” Vincent wept as he said the words. He placed
his hands to cover his mouth, only putting it away and sending me a sorrowful
kiss. I watched him ever so closely, as he turned his back, a she took his
first step facing the opposite direction, and as he moved away, little by
little, vanishing in the slowest succession.
I soon looked
back to the sea and catched the sun as it bid farewell. It sank down deep, interposing my grief
with its own narration of the day’s end… More than the end of my life, I cry at
the end of the love that I have dreamt of, wished for, and worked hard for… I
cry at the recurring image of Vincent moving away, knowing that he wanted to do
something but he cannot. It was the lullaby of a goodbye. It was a modern
myth—and the myth has been busted.
