I wrote this for you


We live in a world where love is widely and deeply romanticized; where butterflies are better than genuine affection; social media posts are sweeter than written letters; where lies surfaced with swooning words are better than honesty; where we settle for the mediocre because waiting was portrayed as ugly; where compromises become home and where wrongs become right.

So, I have come to terms with myself that I will shy away the mediocrities surrounding me. That I will not let my guards down unless it’s worth everything I’ve held on to for the longest time. That I won’t let the socially-constructed idea of love get the best out of me. That I will never settle for good enough just because waiting has become painful to even think about.

And then, you happened in my life.

But no, I didn’t figure out that I was wrong about everything I’ve thought of. Instead, I realized that I was right, for most of it, if not all.

You were nothing the books have made me imagine. You were nothing like the movies I’ve watched. You were different, in every good way possible.

With you, I don’t find myself afloat, madly engrossed with the thought of falling in love. No. Because I am sane. I know what I’m getting myself into. And no, actually, I didn’t fall for you. Because merely ‘falling’ would mean I didn’t have a choice, but that’s not the case. I didn’t just fall for you. I chose you. I made a decision and it happened to be you. I didn’t just fall for you. I rose from it. I rose from all the doubts I had; from the fear of being treated in a special manner; from trusting someone to have my heart after it had been broken once; from building walls around me just so I can protect myself from people who’ll make me feel less of what I deserve. I didn’t just fall for you. It happened slowly, but then all at once. It was beautiful.

You don’t just give me butterflies. With you, I don’t just see rainbows. It’s not just cheap churns in the stomach. It’s more than that. It’s knowing that I’m being protected, taken care of, respected, valued, honored and served. It’s knowing that someone rejoices with my happiness and also feels the pain on my behalf.

You don’t leave me breathless. With you, it’s not like that. Instead, you make me want to take another breath after the next, because that means I could see you again for one more day.

You don’t sweep me off my feet. Rather, you are someone who makes me stand on my knees; who makes me strong in my battles; who encourages me to become invincible; who tells me that I can overcome whatever’s laid on my path; who reminds me to be faithful in all things at all times; who boldly prays for me everytime I’m facing tough circumstances; who gently nudges me everytime I’m not doing the right thing; who corrects me everytime I’m being prejudicial to people, to life and to almost everything; someone who courageously talks to me about matters that need to be dealt with; who never spoils my hidden evilness; who constantly reminds me to be patient at all times, in all circumstances; someone who reminds me to be forgiving, to be gentle and loving, always; someone who never fails to encourage me to become the best version of myself.

You are that person who sacrifice sleep just so you would know that I arrived home safe and unscathed, given you can’t fetch me from work or elsewhere. You are the person who studied Morse codes for me; who uses How I Met Your Mother references on me; who listens to my favorite bands; who loves my fairly odd family; who played jackstone with my youngest sister; who spoils my family with food even though you’re not obliged to; who learned how to love everyone I love; who allows me to go to bookstores and spend time skimming through the pages of books I won’t even buy in the first place; who listens to every rant I have for every author and fictional character I hated; who bears the pain of listening every time I tell you how handsome Song Joong Ki is; who doesn’t burst my bubble every time I tell you that soon enough, Alex Gaskarth will regret not marrying me.

You are the person who not only accepted all my quirks, but loved them, even. The one who adores my painfully comical make-faces; who understands my brand of comedy; who loves my pun-filled jokes; who joins me on uncalled for laughs; who mimics voices which are downright annoying yet funny at the same time; who knows that I can’t get any graceful yet bears with it. You are the person who saw all my unguarded moments, yet chose to stay.

You are the person who embraced all of my imperfections; who knows that I am flawed in every way possible—that I am hard to love, hard to get along with, hard to understand; who knows that I can be selfish sometimes, and that I need a lot of reminding to get back on track; who knows that I am generally not a nice person, but still sticks around because you believe that His grace changes everything. You are the person who knows how miserable my past had been and how much I am not proud of it, but still accepted all that I was, and loves me for all that I am now and all that I will become. You are that person who accepted all of my wrongness.

You are the person I never promised rainbows and butterflies to. I promised you thunders and storms that come along with the beauty of this season. I never promised you that it’s going to be easy. I know that it wasn’t meant to be that way, in the first place. It’s going to be tougher than how it used to be. It’s going to be edgy; it will cause us pain. It’s going to knock us down and make us want to give up . . . but it’s going to be worth it, because you are worth it. You are worth winning every battle for.

You are, by far, the first and only human who meant to me this much, this huge.

And believe me, I don’t use to be like this. I don’t use to be this kind of person. I am not patient. I don’t stay all night waiting for someone to text me that he already got home before I fall asleep. I don’t go to malls and help someone find gift for his niece. I never rummage the bookstore trying hard to find a book only to give it to someone as a gift because I’m thankful that he’s breathing. I don’t like people paying for what I eat. I am not used to someone opening the door for me (except in church). I don’t normally let people tell me not to buy a certain book because I didn’t plan to do so in the first place. I don’t buy crafty stuff online just so that I could give it to someone as a birthday gift. I don’t blow balloons using the air in my lungs just to pull up a surprise for someone. I don’t let anyone become responsible of what I would feel. I don’t spend nights cutting ribbons and colored papers, pasting old tissues from places where the both of us had been, writing crappy letters with my own crappy hand-writing about how I feel for someone. I told myself I’ll never write a blog about someone I hold dear . . . but all these, now I did.



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