I was furious, I was mad, I was wretched.
How could it end, when I thought I’d wake up every day to the green of your eyes? It ended when I built houses for us in astounding forests. It ended when I prepared my ship to forever sail in the veins of your heart.
I destroyed every single house that I have built in my mind. I burnt the forests and wrecked the ship.
I demolished your presence verbally and internally. Thoughts like “true love means staying together” invaded my thoughts and personal space. I blamed you. I blamed me. I blamed life.
But then—I had an epiphany.
I questioned my melancholy and anger. I wondered why tears were streaming down my face. I faced my sorrow.
Then I had the greatest realization of all—I realized that I love you, and because I love you, I don’t want to own you. I have “owned” many people before. Owning people is similar to owning stuff. We’ll enjoy them for few years then throw them away for better ones.
But you are not my past, and I have no intention of owning you. I realized that my sorrow is emanating from my dismal self that wants to be loved—held by your arms and pampered by your sweetness. It is the same self that craves the sight of your eyes in the morning and the rides in your heart.
It was liberating to know that my love for you has outweighed my miserable self. It has flown so high that it passed my ego, myself and my needs. It traveled beyond lingering, attachment and craving.
My love for you has surpassed physical needs or emotional necessities. It made me whole while I was supposed to be split in half.
I love you to the extent that I’ve accepted I won’t smell your exhales anymore, nor feel your inhales when I sleep on your chest. I’ve accepted that my fingers will surf through your hair no more.
I accept all depressive phenomenon, if only you’re happy.
You taught me that love isn’t physical presence. It isn’t building a relationship, nor owning houses together in the forest. It isn’t cooking together or growing old together. It is neither what they portray in movies, nor what they write about in novels.
You taught me that love is letting the other person go. It is giving him utter freedom to explore this universe without you by his side.
Love is selfless. It wants nothing in return. It is wishing the other person’s happiness, peace and love. The more I see you with those attributes, the more I love you—the more I don’t wish to own you anymore.
And I don’t want you to own me either—because I know you love me too, but this life is stronger than any of us. You’re free. I’m free. We’re two free people, loving each other without any boundaries.
I’m not furious. I’m not mad. I’m not wretched.
I wake up every day and see your green eyes ahead of me—although they’re not. I’ve rebuilt the houses for you in the forests. I’ve put the ship together again and virtually sent it to the veins of your heart.
I’ve brought back your presence with me, verbally and internally. I no longer believe in thoughts like “true love means staying together.” I blame no one. I feel grateful for you, for me, for life.
I am the happiest person on earth, because you are happy.
Now excuse me, while I love you.
Author: Elyane Youssef
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Photo: Flickr/Rodrigo Gianesi