letting go

When I was a kid, I easily got attached to things, which sooner or later I had to let go of. Saying goodbye was always hard. The items were already rotting with age, begging to be put to rest in the recycle bin.

Now that I’m older, I still find it hard to let go of things wherein I grew quite attached to. Be it a faded shirt or old tattered cards. I still make up excuses about how I’m not yet ready to give them up or throw them away. I sometimes wonder if it has something to do with being a very sentimental person; one who finds comfort in even the shallowest of things.

Take my trying to let go of him, for example. I’ve been trying to do this for the longest time, and yet I still cannot will myself to do it. Stupid? Yes. Every night I pray for his face to fade away, but I find myself unable to fall into slumber without thinking first that he is with me. I wake up uncountable times during the night just to check my phone in case some miracle has interceded and he has decided to get in touch with me. At a bird’s point of view, I find what I am doing rather pathetic and no-doubt-about it stupid, but it is something that has been wrapped and sewn into my subconscious. There are days wherein I become proud of myself for not thinking about him too much, but then I tend to dream about him in my sleep.

I sometimes marvel at my capacity to hold on. To those reading this, I may sound weak for loving someone who is no doubt not in love with me. But I think of my stupidity as a character of a person who loves unconditionally. After all, I do not love him just so he may love me in return. Unconditional love — to love without expectations, no questions asked.

I once came upon a quote that went, “It is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.” I find the saying quite comforting, albeit I disagree with it. It isn’t better to have loved than lost. Not when you love him every morning, thinking that this might be the day when he finally cares for you, when he finally sees you and loves you. Not when you think all this, only to have it all come crashing down, everything you expected destroyed at the end of the day. Not when you know that even though you felt all these things, all this pain and hurt, you will expect to feel the same way again tomorrow. That tomorrow you will love, and lose him again. It’s not better when you love, and you lose, every single day, and know that you will come back for more.

It is discouraging, disappointing, painful. Yet, my love and silent longing for him knows no boundaries. It feels the pain, at the same time motivated by it. My ego, bruised and tattered, has long been begging my hypothalamus to give up. Still, I hope.

A good friend once said that letting go of someone is not letting go of the feelings that you have for the person but accepting the fact that the person can never be yours. There will come a time wherein, sooner or later, we need to stop wishing for someone not because you are no longer in love, but because you know that that someone will be better off without you. If this were the case, I guess it is time to finally let go of him. So like my old stuffed toys that needs to be thrown away, or ragged blankets that were washed, I must say goodbye one last time. Never to the love I have for him, but to the longings of wanting him to stay in my life.

As I write this, tears are uncontrollably falling down my cheeks. Part of me still longs to hold on; to keep on fighting. But I now realize that this is the part wherein there is nothing more I can do but to smile and be happy for him, even if his happiness means his absence in my life.

After all, that is what unconditional love is all about…