This is just a sample. The story with no ending What do you fall in love for?

Is it because of her dazzling eyes? Is it because of the sweet touch of her skin? Her lips that softly pillows yours? Or is it because of the book that she reads? The things that she sees? The songs that she sings? The things she believes in? What I know is, people fall in love in different ways, in different reasons. People fall in love in different ages, in different eras of life. What I know is, that love comes in different colors, in different timing, in each and every one that lives. This is my story. Like an individual, this was who I am. I was just the boy new in the neighborhood that day. My beige khaki shorts and polka dot polo shirt says so. Everyone, in town was wearing jumper jeans, or jeans and plaid polo shirts over. They wore leather shoes, in heels, and hats that saves their hairs from heating from the scorching sun. I know this, because as I step off the van waiting for my parents to unload our stuff to our newly bought house, I know that eyes are darted on my spikey hair that seem to be alien to them. Nothing else mattered, I told myself. Everyone at school plainly looks blank at me whenever they come across me, as I hear mimics behind as I pass by. Nothing else matter, I really dont mind. Nothing else did, except for this girl in brunette hair, carrying books on her left arm and a jacket on her right, looking straight pass me. Everyone else seem to look at me the same way, but not this girl. Her eyes, swiftly dances in the every lenses of mine, as I wonder as to why she was looking at me that way. Yet I tried to convince myself that today, nothing else matter. It wasnt until a bunch of kids picked up a fight with me. They drew the shapes of their fists on my face just because I was sitting at their territory, just behind the canteen. I had nowhere else to go of course, unless if I did see that one coming. I busted out, running with my hands trying to console the pain I feel in my stomach and red colored face. I ended up at the schools backyard, where trees prefer to live, as I pant and see the weird girl sitting with her back rested against a tree. Alone. She was reading a book, until she dropped it to help me and reach out a bottle of water. She told me her name is Francene, and that she lives a couple of houses from my place. So what are you doing here alone and reading a book? I ask I guess, for the very same reason that I dont want to step into someones territory, just like you did Haha. Though of course it pays if it leads me to wonderful place like this! I exclaimed I really like it here. Its far from noisy kids who just wont stop playing and whining And a cool place to read a book too? Haha! Yes, I actually find this more worthwhile than finding yourself running with other kids And I told her my name. I told her how I like being alone too, away from the kids. I told her about how I got here, where Im from and where I wanted to be. I told her how I love watching the sky as the cold breeze brings out lightness in me. I also told her that I appreciate her friendliness, and that how glad I am to be friends with her. But I guess, I shouldve known better, I shouldve said -Ah, never mind.

That was my life when I was eight years old of course. That was my life, spending recess with Francene, enjoying the worth reads she brings everyday. Eating our sandwiches together, singing along with the groove of old songs, and holding hands on our way home just to know were safe, in each others side. The image of a boy in his tight fitting collared shirt tucked in his usual khaki shorts, holding the little hands of a red haired girl, in her black jeans and plaid red shirt, along the busy sidewalk facing the orange sun setting. Little cute shadows, little cute memories. That was love, for an eight year old like me. Someone you could play with. Someone you could share lunch with. Someone that lightens you up whenever she is around, whether in a middle of other kids, or frightening teachers. Someone you can hide to when other kids bully you. Someone you have to protect to. Someone you could fight to, and be friends again afterwards. One who would cry whenever you cry. Someone you would write letters to, and tell about your day. A companion, a playmate, a best friend, that was love for an eight year old like me. But of course, time passes by. From the beige khaki shorts turning into tight fitting jeans. The usually striped polo shirts into plain colored v-neck shirts topped with leather jackets. The jeans into comfortable shorts and skirts. The plaid long sleeves into vibrantly colored blouses. But the spikey hair, and loose red hair.. they stay the same. Its high school of course. And in a few months, were going to step into college. A brand new start again, a brand new life to furnish over. The glory days of youth. Highschool and College. Francene will graduate as the Valedictorian of the batch, and I step in second as I will walk into the stage proud to be the batchs Salutatorian. And I guess, theres not much to say about the things between Francene and I , but that nothings changed. We eat and read books together. We first drank alcohol together. Puffed and shared our first cigarettes together. I even first watched porn with her. Nothing changed, except for the things that we do. We are still the curious kids peeping through Ms. Allisons window to see if there really lives a monster inside her bedroom. We stayed for each other, through thick and thin. We are still the same kids separated from the world of all the kids. We are still the kids who watch the blue sky turn into the color of the dark space beneath the sheets of clouds. We are still the kids who grabs each others arms whenever we are scared. Together, we grew up. Together, we will leave this town. Together, we will reach our dreams. And I couldnt not forget our Senior Ball. I decided to wear a deep black long sleeve, topped with black jacket, along with a silver bow tie. I picked Francene at her place half an hour before the ball. She stepped out with a long dress, her white skinned chest glowing. Her red hair, curled in the most magnificent way you could think of. She looks just absolutely.. stunning. The rest of the evening was fun. The food taste well. And then.. The slow music started playing. I asked Francene for her hand, to dance. She stood up, whirling my left arm into her right arm. As we centered the floor, she stepped in front of me. Lying her hands at my shoulders. I grab her waists. We swayed for moments, looking into each others eyes, like the first time we met. I could not believe that High School will end after this night. Im scared I told her. Scared of what? Scared of tonight ending. Scared of you letting go of your hands from my shoulders Then in that case, I am scared Scared of what? I asked to my wonder. Scared that you will let me let go of my hands. And eventually tomorrow, letting go of me

Howd you know? Of course I wont Of course I wouldnt let you I want to thank you for all the things weve been through I told her. And I want to thank you too for the things weve been through I think I love you I said. Finally, I had the guts to say I think I love you too She rested her head on my shoulder, encircling her arms around my back. I embraced her like she was all there is to hold on to this world. The music swaying. The light blue lights slowly dancing. The red on her cheeks, the beating of my heart. This is tonight. The Senior Ball committee allowed the batch the privilege to check in rooms from the nearby hotel. The usual, the kids set out partying with loud music with cups in their hands filled with beer. At the highest floor of the hotel, Francene and I chose to stay. We picked up exquisite wines and the classic movies from the 50s to end our night. We cuddled in the bed. Not until when we were intoxicated enough to rub our skins a little faster, a little tighter next to each other. Not until we decided to kiss each other for the first time, pressing ourselves a little more. Not until her dress started to loosen up, and I left alone with my pants on. Not until she kissed me in the neck, slowly kissing and touching her tongue on the skin of my body. Not until I pressed her chest, and slowly amputated the black cloth covering her almost naked body. My back rested against the bed, she rose and seated her bottoms between my legs, and then laid her head again to my warm skin, fondling her lips to my chest, in motions rubbing our bodies faster, our libido more alive. Knocking our underwears off, I brush my lips to her chest, holding her waist in my hands. Going down I went. And I hear her, wanting for ours to meet. Animated, in every thrust. The 50s movie playing. The wine, spilling from the glasses that are lying on the floor. This is tonight. That was love to an 18 year old like me. Someone you could hide from the world with. Someone who holds your hands whenever things get rough. Someone to look after. Someone youd tell all of your secrets, about the things youve been through, about the things youve done. Someone you would tell your hopes and dreams in the future. Someone who would see you for who you are, and appreciate who you are becoming. Someone you wouldnt mind getting lost with, as long as she is by your side. Someone who knows when youre sad, happy, or excited. The glimpse of your joy, the hope in your misery, the light that leads you when youre lost, that is love for an 18 year old like me. Ah. Those memories I thought. Today, is values day. The part when we professors set aside our lectures for a while, and just bond with our students by sharing them life lessons that we so far know. I wouldnt know much, Im just a physics professor. I dont know what Im talking about in front of the class right now. Nostalgic from my sharing, I asked a student who does he love at the moment. I need a diversion, I need to pull myself away from the emotions lingering at every beat of my heart that awakened as I shared my story. Sir, the kind of love we share with our moms, or with our girlfriends? asks the student. Either way, Van. Either way. Ahaha, well in that case I would think of- He drops a name. Describing why he does, and his promises for that person. The class cheers with delight. Murmurs and laughter around the room. Constant teases. Ha, kids. How couldnt I forget?

The least that you guys know, loving someone doesnt necessarily mean the type of thing that leads to marriage and family. Love comes in different ways. Love is given to you by your parents, or else, you wouldnt be sitting there and listening to me, while wearing your proud uniforms and jewelries, if they dont love you. Love is given to you by us, your teachers, or else I would rather sit idle every meeting here and still get paid by your lovely parents. Love comes in passion, when you play a song over and over your iPod, when you buy your brand of clothes, when you open the computer to play your favorite games, or write rants over your blogs. The class sits silent. Eyes staring blankly at my face, but not the kind of stares I used to get when I was a kid. This time these eyes are prepared to see right through me, just like Francene. Nonetheless, when you love something, you would fight for it. When you love something, you wouldnt want to live without it. When you love something you would- What happened to her, sir? asks Tristine, the young lady sitted adjacent to me. And images flashes right before my eyes. I remember that night Francene crying. Me punching a wall painted with my blood. Running to the plain darkness, against the streetlights, Francene gone. When you love something, Tristine, you would learn to let it go. No matter how much you need them in your life. Whats important is that you fought for it, with the best you can. Until every strength you have drains from the pain you get. You two broke up? asks Gaurav. We went our separate ways I answered. Class, when you love someone, you just dont let anything happen to them. The way you would always want them to see their real beauty, the one you see. When you love someone you would always be there for them, even if it costs a lot from you I remember. Her red hair, waving with the wind as she runs with a smile on her face. The meadow adjacent to the sunset, she asks for me to chase her. Her laughter, and her voice. Shes grown up, Im grown up. Her eyes I used to adore, in front my face as we lie down in the field. She promised to marry me. I promised to always be there for her. We made it here, out from the town we spent our childhood with. On our way to our dream jobs. Were lying here in the field, away from the world again, what could possibly go wrong after this? Thats love when you are an adult. Someone you could settle with for the rest of your lives. Someone you could travel the world with. Someone to build houses with. Someone to spend evenings with your children at the dinner table. The one in your future, the one to share the rest of your adventures, your future ups and downs, thats love for an adult like me. Nonetheless class, love, comes in different ways. It doesnt matter whether youre a kid, a teenager, or an adult. Whatever your age is, you will always get the best love you can get. Love, is not that simple though. The more it lasts, the more strength you should have to fight for it. The more you will have to accept the changes. What I want you to learn class is that when you love a person, you will need to have the capacity to accept the alterations. It is not forever that the kid you used to love will always wear your favorite pony tail look of hers. It wont be long until the book that she reads turns from Fairy tales to Biology books. It will not always be like that. Love will not always be butterflies in your stomach; you will have to work things out come the time it goes to its worst. Thats what love is, whatever form it may be, whether your love for your art, music, parents, or girlfriends, you will then have to have to capacity to love them for whoever they may turn out to be. And when it struggles to rise from the worst.. then that is the time when love is at its best.

The class sits in awe. The murmur starts to live again. Their hands released from their pens, and cellphones they tried best to hide from me. As long as you love someone, as long as you are loved, you are alive. Thats what love is class, thats what you should all remember. You may forget my name, the scientific things I say, but never forget what I told you today. Love is something you should love, and it will not always be sunny days, but it should always be alive. Love can bring out the worst in you, turn you in a knapsack dumb person, the kind of stupid everyone is tired to hear about. Yet, it could bring out the best in you, finally lead you to the realization of your worth. I end Wherever that person is, whatever happened between the two of you, as long as she lives in the memory of your heart, the relationship, the love is still alive. You may love someone just as much, but you cant love someone who means as much. The bell rings. I grab my folders and bid goodbye to my students, the last class I will have for the day, the only class I felt safe telling my story with. I checked my attendance out for the day. Nostalgic, images of the past covering me. The way she and I talked about our future, the way she I promised to be together for the rest of our lives. I wonder where those days went. I remember the red hair that waves in the air, the sweet fragrance she used to have, her soft white skin, and her alluring voice. It didnt take a while for me to notice that the images I see in my head slowly coming to life. Here she actually is. Walking towards me. Her voice, her soft white skin, the fragrance she used to have, and her hair that I wont tire to adore. They are for me to witness again. She stops and stares at me. The way she first stared at me, when I saw her out of the hundred kids in the crowd. She draws a smile, just like how she first smiled at me under the shade of the tree. Taking my hand just how she used to, she said hi. In front of the school gate, in front of the kids I told about her, here she actually is, the red haired girl in my story, the girl in my heart. I told her Im okay, and how I would love to hear from her, when she broke out and said Also, Creen! I want you to meet him. she enthusiastically says. -This is Steve. My son she said. Standing beside her is a boy, sturdy and handsome. Stunning person, just like his mom. Francene and I talked for hours, while we wait for her and Steve be fetched by her husband. Catching up with the past. This is us now, this is our life. Not for long, she is gone. Not for long I am filled with emotions I cant explain. Not for long, we tried to fight regret. Did he built her the house she wanted? The house I promised to build with her? Does he sing to her music? Does he dance with her even if he doesnt know how to? Does he write her songs, and words that deciphers his love for her? Is he the man she wanted? Where would I be then if he does? Does she still think of me the way she crazily does? Am I still the man she wanted? Should I close my eyes to fall asleep and pretend to be with her in my dreams? And that I will wake up next to her? My wishful thinking? I cant help but ask myself then. What do I fall in love for? Did I fall in love because of her dazzling eyes? Or for the sweet touch of her skin? Is it her lips that softly pillows mine? And then I realized the question doesnt differ from the question what do I live for? I fell in love for her in different ways, in different colors and shapes. I fell in love with her in different times, in different eras, years, hours and seconds, I fell in love with her. I fell more in love with her when she went away, Ill fall more in love with her until I grow old. I guess there is not much to say

about how you fall in love, and how you felt. Only the visible answer that you loved, you were loved, you are alive. I decided to walk on my way home. While memories of her flashing in front of me again. In my memory, she holds my hands tightly, as we walk on our way home, just like we used to. She utters a line that would change the entire of us. The moment she told me she was arranged for someone else. The moment tears fell out of our eyes. The moment Francene ran out of the darkness. Images of Francene all around me, my heart beating fast in love again, images of the girl I loved. Im going home.

Sometime Around Midnight I want you to run away from me. As far as you can, until the sight of me disappears in the horizon. Right now, I want you to tell me that you dont care about me, so that this will all have to be painless for me. I need you to tell me that, please do as I say That, says the sadist. That from her, months ago. I mean, tell me, tell how to wake up from melancholy after a soul destructing break up? Well, honestly, you cant tell me nothing. There wont be right words to lighten up a dead spirit. No matter how much you speak to me, remind of the things I must be reminded of, I still wouldnt listen. At the end of the day I would still reunite with the thoughts that rewind the past, thoughts that will awaken my regrets. I mean, tell me something that will make me forget of what I just lost? Tell me how to forget something I will never have again in my life? Tell me something that can remove this insane pain I feel from the moment I wake up in the morning until I close my eyes at night. You cant tell me anything. No one can. I guess this is another advantage for my career at the moment. The current project I have right now requires me to do a lot of drama in front of the camera, so what Im feeling right now is much to my advantage. An award for best actor is that easy. One thing about this damn world is that what you see in peoples lives sometimes dont appear to feel the same the moment you step in their shoes. The famous people you see in television, the glamorous personalities, well to tell you the truth, they dont really live the way people expect them to live. The happy couples you see, best believe that its not everyday that they are happy. What do I get from my fame? Aside from my face scattered on billboards, my name on every magazine? My life being followed, and judged on almost every place I go, with every people I meet? Well, the fact of course that its very much easy to get laid every night. But what I really want to know is what does she feel everytime she sees my face, everytime she hears people say my name, or reads the newspaper and magazines, how does she feel? Isnt that what everyone wants to know after a breakup? Nonetheless, I have to think about that when I get home. From a date, cute girlshe is, fun to talk to, well educated, in short, shes foxy classy. But surely, I dont know if Im making the worst decision of my life that I took for granted this girl and blew off my date. Just like every dates I had after my break up with Michelle. What the fuck just happened back there bro? Van asks. You know, shes not really my type. As an actor, Im pretty much good at lying.

You cant just blow off every chick you meet just because one of them blew you off, man Just drive, will you? I really need some drink. Have you called the boys yet? Tell them its on me tonight If its not just for the free booze every after your dates, we wouldnt really be hearing your clich reasons. Ahaha! I told you to shut up and drive The club, as usual a sea of drunk people trying to have some good time for the night. The dj plays, but no one really listen, people just mind their own business like what we are doing right now. Getting the music into your soul is as easy as breathing. I guess the problem with this motherfucker is that, he hangs on to his pride that much. He really cant believe he just got dumped that bad, without any say in their relationship says Steve. Yeah, right, you just cant accept the fact bro, that you were dumped, and that theres no other way to show that you can win the break up, man Ryan suggests. Can you guys just stop will all your theories, and stuff I immediately answered. Well, at some point, theyre right. Ive lost communication with Michelle the very night we broke up. In fact I really dont know where she is now. Her friends used to update me about her, but I really dont know who, and when to believe. Probably the reason why I get more crazy everytime. I cant help but think who she is with right now, is she with the kind of man that Im not? Someone better than me? If I get myself a rebound relationship, she would know Im just doing it to just console myself. How bad of a loser can I get? People having fun on the dancefloor. The lights in different colors dancing everywhere, they are starting to hurt my eyes. I really cant see myself, this club is so dark, just perfect enough for me. My friends are on their way home, while some still enjoying themselves with girls they just met. In a see of ecstatic people I have myself sitting on the corner, holding my favorite tonic. Indulging myself in pain. This is where Im good at. Getting myself miserable. And I really dont know why people look up to what I have, they dont really mean a thing to me right now. The fame, the money, the girls I could get, boy do they sound a lot to me before. But now I just feel like none of them completes me, not as much as she completes me. And I see her in that white dress she wears lovely on a Sunday afternoon, while we enjoy vanilla sundae in the meadows and exchanging kisses. I can picture her walking right at me. And if ever that happens I wouldnt know what I would tell her. If I should tell her how much she meant in my life, or tell her that she doesnt deserve to caress my face again after all the shit she put me through. I wouldnt know which truth I should say. The tonic falls to the ground. It wouldnt be the same with any other girl. It wasnt the same. The girl hitting on me shuts silent. Shes wearing Michelles perfume. She draws her lips into mine, her thighs above my thighs. I shut silent. It wouldnt be the same, it wouldnt be the same. Her lips are different from hers. The way she grabs my back is different from the way she does. Why wouldnt I be surprised? When this happen all the time. As you lay them flat on their back on your bed, and you can still see her face as you get reminded of the nights you do the same to her. And you would want to just go back to her. There is still much difference. I just have to get out of this club. Just get over it man. Its over Steve says from the back of the car. Yes, she may have walked out of your life, but that doesnt mean you have to give up on your life,

dude says Van. People leave us, so we can start ourselves anew, for a better version of us drops Ryan. I dont know you guys. I know, I cant get her back. I know I could be better off without her. I know that. I know that I wont get to anywhere as long as Im in this wasteland of misery. But theres just something I know I have to know. Theres just something in me that knows that I need to give myself this time. The car remained silent. Under the streetlights that gives light to the darkness the the night brings. On a road that will get me home. And I can look at pictures of her for a thousand times in a day. I could sing her favorite song every minute. I could stare at the heavens and know that shes staring at it too. I know these things hurt me, it tears me apart everytime I do, but its all I have left from her guys. So Im sorry, I just need this time Shes in town bro. Shes been in town for two weeks already. As far as I know shes not dating anyone at the moment, at least thats what I learned from the chick at the bar. says Ryan. And what is it with material things that people want it so much? What you can buy in this damn world is limited. You may have enough money to buy all there is to buy in this universe, but not one of them can make you feel complete if you know you dont have anyone to share it with. The memories came flashing back again. When people back then kept asking me how much I love my life, and I answer an enthusiastically, smiling, knowing in the back of my mind that I have her. How much everythings so much better back then, until things fell apart. Would it change a thing? If I burn all the letters I wrote to her, she didnt seem to read them despite the sea of them? All the poems I made for her, she didnt let me know how much she felt about them anyway? What if I forget her voice, she didnt talk about me anyway as much as she talked about the men in her past. What if I throw all the memories of her, she wouldnt care anyway, now would she? Now, I could live without her even if it feels like theres this stab in my heart that I cant seem to get off. I know that getting over a person is not easy, but I know I can. Everyone know they can, but they just wouldnt want to believe it. They dropped me off at my place, like the usual. The smell of the roses she planted on my front door welcomes me as I open the door. Theres so much to say that I wish she didnt have to leave yet. I admit thats the reason why I cant seem to float off this break up. Theres still much to prove, but she left us no choice but end it. Yet, as I scan through what I feel, I know I should despise her. Wine glasses on the coffee table. The fireplace lit. Only one person I know who does this, as I looked up from the floor and stared at the lady in red trench coat in front of me. A familiar face.

Dear Jane I have you at the tip of my memories. On the edge, ready to fall. And I wonder if you meant it when you told me you love me. And I needed you to tell me more how youd stay in my life, through thick and thin. I wanted to show you how much Im ready take a bullet for you, if only you werent miles away. And I needed you to speak, the time you sat silent that night as the lamp light filled us with emotions. I needed you to tell me, I needed you to speak to me, at that very time I cannot to you. And I needed to know how much you would go the distance for me, when I turn into the shadows of getting lost. Jane, shes as beautiful as the heavens after the rain. And in her eyes Im completely lost. Your coffees ready, sir my assistant says as she hands the coffee tray on my table.

I drop out of the blue. Back to where I should be again. My reality. I travelled back in my memory to see her smiling back at me again. I close my eyes and listened to the sound of her voice that plays in my consciousness. And I wish she could see my life here. Oh how much I wish you were here. To see me living my dream, the way we both wanted it to be. The consultants I deal with every day, they walk out of my office with brand new hope. The kind of hope I am holding on to. Insanity. We all fall for it. Whether we lose our minds in procrastination, or simply just dealing with people. We get crazy for simple things. Like how we get our socks knocked off just because our favorite football team loses in the playoffs. And yes, I deal with different people with different causes of insanity. Career, marriage, individuality, ah, tell me about it. I look at the window, sprinkled in water drops from the rain. The wind blowing against trees. The cloud as grey as the grains of gravel. I never hoped for this today when I woke up, but here it is now. And I have to deal with it. Youll never know when life will give you lemons. I drop a sigh. Stacy, tell Mr. Herlingson to come in now I say. The door opens and a man in grey cardigan over a white long sleeved shirt. Gray, I think I know what Ill be dealing with today. The conversation went on for a little. I asked him some information about him, his age, his likes and dislikes, and other of those kind of stuff. So, what can I do for you today? I ask. My wife and I are married for almost 30 years now. We have two kids, one 27 and the other 23. We lived happily, we reached our dreams, our house, and we have supported our kids well. We have done almost everything we dreamt of when were just dating, and now there seem to be this feeling of blankness everytime I wake up every morning. As if theres nothing left to do anymore. I have become part of a routine rather than life. I wake up, I go to work, I go home. And I look at my wife, and I ask myself who that person is. I ask myself why I spent the rest of my life with her; I ask myself how I even got to this point. Mr Herlingson says. And for some reasons I cant explain, I got reminded of Janes face everytime we wake up every morning. I got reminded of how she opens her eyes as she realizes shes in my arms again. And I got reminded of her face whenever I see her again for the first time. And I got reminded of how I ask myself the same questions, the same whys. But unlike Mr. Herlingson I find myself an answer, and that is because I know I love her. And perhaps I cannot blame Mr. Herlingson, for the fact that he enjoyed spending so much time already with his wife, that he wasnt able to take track of the time. Perhaps, he woke up again, like how you wake up from a sleep on a train and you wonder where you are already. Can you still remember the first time the both of you met, Mr. Herlingson? I ask. Of course, it was summer of 1960. We met in college Mr. Herlingson immediately answers. And can you still remember the way you felt everytime you see her at that time? Absolutely. I remember getting nervous everytime I wait in front of her building just to see her. My friends never knew what I was up to, I just convinced them that the air is much breezy in front of that college. I remember the rush of hiding whenever she walks out of the building. Then one day my friend, Levigne, noticed what I was really up to and set me up. It didnt take long before one day she walked to another direction unlike her usual, and walked towards us instead. She sat next to the bench

were at, and my friends started leaving. They told me they were just gonna go to the restroom, but they never came back. Then I looked at her and caught her looking at me too, and I had no choice but to say hi. And then we talked. Until every afternoon we sit on the same bench in front of her college, until I started asking her out for dinner, until we started going out for movies every Friday night, until the night we first told each other I love you. Mr. Herlingson ends. Well wasnt that sweet? I say. Mr. Herlingson stares at the rain outside the window. My coffees gone cold. We talked about how they met, and how they fell in love. As the conversation goes on, I cant help but ask myself how I fell in love. How Jane made me fall in love. How she held my hand like no other. Like how she held on to me as if theres no other. The night we first went out for dinner. The way she stared at me, swimming straight through my soul. And I never felt so afloat, so in love. Lost in the moment. And from that night on, I know I am in love. And I never believed in love, until she came. Until she showed me how to feel it. I never wanted to be with anyone else. I never wanted to take care of someone else, because from that moment on, I knew there couldnt be anything better that this. Nothing could go wrong. And then, one night we had this huge fight. We argued on a lot of things that I cant even recall what started it. There were just screams rebounding on the walls. Broken things on the floor. The crying and the shouting, they never stopped. She had to leave the apartment, and I didnt hear from her for a week. I never wanted to, but I gathered all emotional strength I have and showed up in front of her door. I knew that my pride wont get my love back. I came with words prepared on my head, but the moment I saw her as she opened that door, I forgot myself. I forgot the world; I forgot everything that I felt, except for the pumping feeling that I want things to be okay again. We never said a word; we just stared at each other and knew that the fight is over. It was time to start anew. Mr. Herlingson says. Oh the feeling when you know you cant live without that person, huh? I react. It was that. And the thoughts you know youre better off with her than with any other Mr. Herlingson replies. I look at Mr. Herlingson as he tells me stories about his wife, and I wondered if I really looked that proud and alive when I talk to people about Jane. Or did she ever look that alive when she tells her friends about me? Do her friends know more about us, other than our fights that she clearly opens up so much to her friends? Do they really know more of me than the douchebag she makes me look like in our fights? Mr. Herlingson goes on. And at that moment on I knew fights had to come in relationships. Its not a relationship when couples dont fight. Its not supposed to be butterflies and rainbows always. Euphoria has to die sometimes, to bring you back to the ground again. Sometimes when things are too good, you wouldnt know if its true anymore. You wouldnt know how strong the relationship is, you wouldnt know if shes just staying beside you for the good times. I learned that every after a fight, the relationships gets stronger, better than ever. Its only in the dark times when youll feel love at its best, when you both try to keep it alive. adds Mr. Herlingson. And this man in front of me knows more about love than I do. He says exactly how I feel, and defines it with words I cannot process out. Yet I seem to wonder why he is lost. A beep sounded from the computer. Jane e-mailing me from New York. And I wonder if Mr.Herlingson ever felt the sadness I feel whenever I cant hear the voice of my love and left with just plain words on a device. And I wonder if he misses her wife more whenever he can only hear nothing from her, but words on a paper. Knowing that shes countries away from him, I wonder how did he, or

would he ever feel when that happens. Well, in my case, I would know. Its hard as hell. And you always feel incomplete, whenever shes not around. Until that night when she caught me with a woman- Mr. Herlingson nonchalantly dropped. Again, what? Mr. Herlingson? Those were the days when you start asking yourself if theres something more outside your relationship or marriage rather. When you start to ask yourself if this is all you will ever get, and you wonder how it would feel with someone else. We fell in love too young, I thought. says Mr. Herlingson. So, to compensate your curiousness, you had an affair? I asked. I tried. But from that very moment on, I knew nothing could be much greater than what I have. But she didnt believe me. She trusted more on what she saw rather than listening to me. Mr. Herlingson adds. So let me guess, it was another huge fight huh? It was, it went on for a month until we finally patched things up Did you, ever for once doubted your wife, Mr. Herlingson? It would be a lie if Id deny, I guess. I mean, I knew I had to keep my eye on her. I didnt know what else to do. Everyone adored her back in college, and still continued to after she graduated. It was easy for her to find someone knew I thought. And everyday I had to prove myself worthy of her. But from your stories, it seemed like you were an attention catcher as well for the ladies back then? I know, but I never paid much attention to them before. I dont know if she ever did on those who liked her. But as for me, I had no affair ever since our relationship. That lady in the car, she was my secretary. I can never love anyone else than her, and she proved to me that I really cannot, even more after that incident. She showed me more how much she loves me. Yet, even if I know how it feels, I cant know if its true. I have never loved anyone as much as I loved Jane, yet she didnt seem to prove how much she loves me. I dont know if its just me who interpreted her actions as showing of affection, or have I just blinded myself with infatuation? If it was me who got myself falling in love with her rather than Jane making me fall in love for her? How would I know? If I seem to be just a puppet to her emotional needs? How would you know youre in love, Mr. Herlingson?. I just knew I had to ask. Its when she tells you she loves you, and you know deep inside its true. Shell make you fall in love, you will like everything she does, and she will like everything you do, that she doesnt even need to try. You dont even have to tell her you love her, shell just know. And it had to be easy looking at her, knowing at the back of your mind that you love that person. She doesnt even have to try, to make you feel how much she completes you. When sacrificing something for that person doesnt matter, as long as you know shes enough reason for you to do it as much as the relationship is enough reason to do it. When the both of you will work out the damages, when you fight, you just wont give up until everything is okay again. That is when youre in love. That when you ask yourself if shes the one you want for your life, youll just know. Then what are you doing here now, Mr. Herlingson? I asked. There is not much time left. 50 minutes have gone by since Mr. Herlingson stepped in my office, and I have to make the next ten minutes valuable. Pardon me?

Pretty much, the both of you have drowned yourselves in the sea of a normal life. Look, youre in your 50s, and youre in love, you just cant feel that now. Like what you told me a while ago, its in the rough time that youll know the real strength of relationships. Youre in love, I tell you. You pretty much love your wife. And I guess, the lesson in our session today is that you need to value the golden days of the past. The both of you basically have gone through a lot, and still manage to keep the love alive until now. The both of you have something the other couples are envy of. There are thousands of relationships that end in a day, and youre lucky that you still have yours. So go home, tell your wife you love her. Take her out on a date, like the both of you used to do. Go to Paris and witness the sunset. Go to Japan and taste an amount of delicable sushi. Your relationship with her may be dry right now, but that doesnt mean that the both of you love each other less. So go home, tell your wife you love her. And when you enter my door again this Tues, well help you get through with that more Mr. Herlingson stood up with a smile on his face. The rain stopped. My computer beeps again. The man I knew an hour ago is so much different from the man who stepped out of my office now. Enlightened, in love again. These are the kind of people that gives me happiness. These are the kind of things that holds me to the ground of life, and keep reminding me of my purpose. There were 7 more patients after that hour, but I cant seem to get the one I had with Mr. Herlinson. I dont know what love is supposed to be. I mean, it can go in different ways, depending on the couple. I dont know what should be happening or shouldnt be happening in a relationship. But I definitely know what I must be feeling. I took a sip of my coffee and I get reminded of Jane the first time I saw her in the coffee shop. The first time I met her. She sat across my table. I stole glimpses, and she didnt seem to notice, until I had the guts to ask her if I can sit next to her. I never regretted that I did. I never will, no matter what will happen in the future. I woke up not knowing how deep Ill get to realize things today. I drove on the way home and I thought of how shes miles away from me now. I wondered if we were ever that wonderful like what the Herlingsons had. I wonder we ever felt the same for each other, or did she just entertained me because she needed someone like me. I never heard her talk about the letters Ive written to her. And she always run away or try to dodge whenever she knows a fight between us is coming up. And I wondered if she ever cared for me as much as I cared for her? Were all the things she told me just lies, to keep me hanging on to her? Just because she cant afford to lose me? And the words of Mr. Herlingson replays again, and again in my head. How much do I love, Jane? How much does she love me? And yes, maybe I want to know if she invested in this relationship as much as I invested almost everything in it? And I get reminded of the nights she walked away from me, everytime she sees Im mad. When shed rather leave me than know how to make things okay. How much its always me everytime that has to do something about the problem between us. Shes a runaway; Im the one who runs for her. And yes, I am jealous of what the Herlingsons have something I wish I had. That I cannot recall her willing to step up and make things okay, no matter how much impossible the road is. A runaway, My room is lightened by the lights from my windows. I open the ceiling lights, and I see an empty house despite of its furniture just like how it seemed to be with the lights turned off. Just like how empty I feel right now. Im reminded us running on the shore of the beach. I see us in the movies. I see us falling asleep

in each others arms. I see us holding hands while we walk. I see me wrapping her shoulders in my arms I open my email to find Janes email messages all over my inbox. This is the first time again after 5 days she emailed me. And I couldnt picture how busy a journalist is at New York to not be able to find time and say hello to her boyfriend. And Im reminded of the rainy days we sat far apart from each other. When the silence can only hear raindrops. When its not smiles thats drawn in our cheeks, but rather tears falling from our eyes. When the deafening silence kills. I wouldnt know. I wouldnt know when a relationship is worth saving for. I started picking up the pen and writing down what I feel. I tell her how I have thoughts of her on the tip of my memories. How the scenes of us is playing again and again all over my head. I drive down to insanity with the thoughts of us apart. And I tell her honestly how much she needs to keep me strong right now, now that Im on the edge of our relationship. I tell her how much I need her to tell me how its worth saving this relationship. Perhaps this time, its not mine to save. And I wrote down how much I wanted to know if she ever sees the next ten years with me, the next twenty, the next thirty, and the following years. And then I asked myself how much more distance am I willing to take for this relationship? How much more sacrifices? Am I better off out in this relationship? I wrote a little more how much she meant so much to me. I wrote a little more how much I was willing to sacrifice if she would have showed me she was too. I wrote a little more, a little more. I say thats all I wrote. As she would say the same. I put the parchment in an envelope. A letter that could fill me with regrets. A letter to remember. I stared at it for moments, with my eyes on the letters in my handwriting on the envelope.. Dear Jane