Heaven, Then After

To all the love and the ruin

In a span of a lifetime, one might think a human’s life is composed of a manifold of purposes. I have come to realize how our only true purpose traces back its root to love. Love for career. Love for friends and family. Love for dreams. Love for memories. And love in the most romantic way. And that one?

It does not meet me as often as it does with other people. But when I do come across it, it’s grand. It doesn’t come whispering to my ear; rather, it enters like a thunderbolt. Marvelously loud. And when it ends — blaringly cruel. The mold forms behind my rib cage faster than I can anticipate.

It’s poetry as it gets.

But it’s also a curse.

And in the few times it has found me, it has always worn a familiar face. I recognize it the moment I see it. You were one of those times. One of the rare, thunderous loves that are loud in their arrival, and the most unforgiving in their leaving.

Momentary and intense. Somehow, both at once. I didn’t think love could actually feel the way movies made it seem. And then it did. It took one conversation for me to fathom that you were either going to be the love of my life or my greatest heartbreak.

And you were both. Those months felt like we had known each other forever. It felt comforting to have someone in this chaotic city, and that feeling was new to me, so I savored every second. I felt every moment like imprints I wanted marked on my soul. The rest of the world didn’t matter anymore. It was only us.

I was set on not having kids for life. You were the same. We had the same reasons. But after having a lot of conversations about it, I started to imagine a future with you. I adored every part of your face so much I imagined little kids running around with it on them. I imagined a future with you after not wanting one for so long.

It was heaven on Earth. I thought I had finally found someone who had the stomach to hold my heart. It was perfect — until it wasn’t. The loud, perfect arrival doesn’t make up for the unforgiving withdrawal.

It’s ferocious. You knew. You knew how vulnerable and fragile I was. You knew damn well, yet you were still able to perfectly do me wrong the same way. I bled in front of a shark.

I’m back to square one. Yet again, I’m picking up the pieces of me that I so worked hard on rebuilding. Now, I look for you everywhere — and flinch the moment I hear your name and when I feel your presence. I flinch at the untamed familiarity, like you were a constellation I memorized by heart.

And it was never conditional. Not even transactional. I moved mountains, even when you couldn’t meet me halfway. I went to you. I moved out of my way just to meet you where you could only go.

But despite all these? I’m afraid you are still one great love. One that I was only meant to feel for a brief moment. One great love and one soul-shattering heartbreak.

It’s not just a curse — it’s a tragedy at most.

It’s a disease, and I’m on my death bed. You must be so grateful you don’t have it. I feel so deeply for every little thing I get to hold, as if my heart has millions of strings tied to everything I have ever cared for. And every time one snaps, it’s like I’m choking from my own air and drowning from my own tears.

But if you think about it, how lucky am I to have the privilege of encountering rare in their coming, exceptional loves in this lifetime? Even though it comes with extraordinary pain. Yes, maybe it is a tragedy. But it’s also an honor. It’s one I would choose again and again, after not feeling anything at all.

Because I’d rather be exhausted from loving and die with a worn, full heart. Something tells me it just means I lived through it all. I would have defeated one great curse.