Love Me Like Penelope

The Oceans that Pulls Us Apart

I have always dreamed of being loved the way Odysseus loved Penelope — that it almost makes you mad just because you can’t return to my side. To be loved so deeply that even time, distance, and temptation become nothing more than an obstacles to overcome. I want to be loved enough that you would carve a wedding bed from the very tree where we first met, rooting our love into something that can’t be moved.

Can we be like Odysseus and Penelope, please?

Can we stay as in love as we were in the first moment we fell in love, even as the years pull us apart? When oceans stand between us and life leads us down separate paths, would you still look for me the same way? Would you still yearn to be with me just the same? Would my name still live in your chest, constant and irreplaceable? Even when the world offers you everything — ease, beauty, even immortality—would it still be me you reach for in the end? Even after 20 years of being apart, would you still come back to me?

Would you, please?

I want to be loved in a way that leaves no space for anyone else. Not because you must, but because you don’t want it any other way. I want to be the only choice you return to, over and over again, even when life offers something brighter, easier, or nearer in your hands. I want a love that makes you a little foolish—where, even if a goddess stood before you, you would still turn away, just to find me.

I want yo to be loyal like Odysseus, but I do not want loyalty that born from fear. I want the kind that grows from love so deep it feels like an instinct — something you do to without thinking, just like breathing and blinking and maybe also when I’m falling in love with you. If you love me like Odysseus did for Penelope, then I would wait for you, the way Penelope did — faithful, holding onto us even when the world insist I should let you go. I would keep my heart untouched, sacred just for you, if only you would meet me halfway — if only you would believe that I’m here, waiting, choosing you even in your absence.

And if you never return, I think it would be easier to believe you were lost to the world than to imagine you chose someone else. That is how completely I would give myself to our love — how fully I would remain yours. But tell me, my love, would you did what Odysseus did?

Because above all, I do not just want love — I want a love that always comes back. A love that wanders, that struggles, and tested by everything it could possibly lose — and still finds its way home to me.

Can we be that kind of love?

…. please?