Month: July 2016
Writers: The Lover And The Beloved
“You’ve always written because you wanted to. If you don’t want to any more, why should you? Do you think your not writing is going to cause a village to burn to the ground? A ship to sink? The tides to get messed up? Or set the revolution back five years? Hardly. I don’t think anybody’s going to label that defection.”
-Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
One who does not read cannot be a writer, or at least be a good one. So of course, I read, a lot. But when it comes to writing about Bernadette, reading can only teach me techniques; only my heart can tell me what things about her should be put into writing. Last week, however, I received a source material from my muse, one that she herself wrote. It’s a rather welcome change, a temporary reversal of role – I, the writer, had become a reader, and she, the reader, had become a writer. It also made me realize that my writing has become just as much for her as it is for me.
Writing, the kind that stems from the heart, is mostly a solitary, self-indulgent, and self-serving passion. No matter how good wordsmiths spin their motive for doing what they eponymously engage in all they want, that truth is inescapable. But despite the fact that the main reason behind the inception of most of these soul-driven pieces of work is self-satisfaction, there are some among them that are meant to be read as much as they are meant to be written, and they are more than meant to be about and for someone else than they are about and for the self. Such is the case with pieces centered on love.
A love letter – I just received one from my beloved. Rather, it’s more of an open letter, a blog post, if you must. It’s not the first writing I got from her, as she had given me two cards before, but I never received something as long and as telling of her soul as this one. And up to now, even though it has been a week old, I am still moved by its content, the crafting of it as an art, and the very gesture of putting words together not only to convey a message to me, but also and more importantly, to make me feel her love for me in a manner that she hasn’t done so before. I have already responded to what the letter is saying, but have yet to the act of her writing itself. And that is what I must do so.
Reading is the first and most important approach to a literary work; the next would be to understand the context: the setting the author was in when they wrote it, the life experiences they are going through, and the reason why they wrote it in the first place. I know all of them all too well. She wrote it at work, sneaking a few hours to make something personal – something I’d do; she’s in a rather interesting time in her life, as we’ve found love in each other, and at the same time wondering what she could do within herself to play her role in this theater of romance (the answer is nothing; I love her because and in spite of who she is); and she wrote it for me, for her love. Oh a girl, the one that I love, writing for, about, and to me – how dreamlike, manga-like.
Aya Toujo-like in many aspects – beautiful; kind; intelligent; esteemed in the arts, especially literature and film; and always so loving, understanding, and supportive of me. I, however, never thought that she’d share this one facet as that of the paragon of all romance-harem heroines: being a writer. Once again, that is. I remember her telling me that she had given up on the craft, saying that it’s not for her, even though she is just as capable a wordsmith as I am in my eyes – not as her lover, but as a writer, a critic. She has eloquent word choice and accurate usage; she’s able to get her thoughts and emotions across in the most beautiful way possible. And if she can craft such a wonderful and genuine piece that would move not only me but also others that would read it, then I say that she’s prematurely hanging up her dream.
That, however, is but a suggestion. It’s not my dream, but hers. She is the one carrying this brainchild of an ambition in the womb that is her heart, so hers is the ultimate prerogative to abort or give birth it. And whatever her choice may be, I will fully be behind her. But I, her partner and one of her potential inspirations, should she choose to dream again, would like to immerse myself into whatever life her words would bring. I can picture it – me, frolicking in beaches, jungles, deserts, cities, temples, planets, cosmic places; rubbing elbows with creatures of whatever kind in her creations; or me, being one of the many stars in in the universe of her thoughts and feelings – how enamoring, how…self-centered of me.
Berna once told me that it doesn’t matter to a piece from me is about, for, and to her or not; what does is that it’s from me. And that’s what I feel towards her writing too. No matter how impersonal and even though I’m no part of it, any work of hers is a gem, and any piece from her has a piece of her soul infused to it, so each and every one of them is worth the read.
So honey, like I previously said, whatever you choose to do with the dream is up to you, but I’d be happy if you pick it back up. And if you choose to write – to dream – once again but don’t know how or where, don’t know how or where, then think of your passion as a book that you haven’t read for quite some time now and have forgotten where you stopped. Well, just start anew again, so the parts you’ve already covered will have a brand new meaning, and eventually you’ll be on your way again. And when it comes to writing, it doesn’t have to be a short story or a poem; a letter or an essay about anything you want more than enough. In addition, don’t think about what others would say. Yes, getting read by others is important, but more important is that you quench your need to express what’s within you through words. Besides, you already have an audience, me, and I say to you, not as a lover but as a critic and fellow writer, that your writing is superb, and I wish I have more of it in my life.
I’ve always imagined what it would be like to have a writer girlfriend like Aya Toujo. We’d exchange writing, read them together, understand each other better, and engage in activities that would further enrich our love for one another and make great sources of inspiration. Well, now I have seen a glimpse of what a life like that would be. I’d say it’s amazing, because my two loves – my woman and my mistress, writing, both hers and mine – share almost the same space in my life.
But even if my mistress fades, I’ll still love my woman. I love her not because she writes, but because of love itself, and I write because it is a part of me, because of the things that are worth writing, and because of the things I love – and one of them is my woman.
I love you, Berna.
Bernadette, Your Bridge and Storm Responds…
Dear Tsundere-hime,
Truth be told, I don’t know how to respond. Until now I’m still overwhelmed with happiness and love over what I’ve read from you, even though you’ve already told me before many of the things you’ve written here. But like I said, every repetition of our declaration of our love for each other takes on a new meaning, and what you have written is one of the most meaningful and significant repetitions ever. And just like a work of literary art, it becomes more beautiful when dissected.
The things you told me I represent? You represent those things too. You represent those things coming to life and more. You manage to make me feel the supposed novelty of fiction take an actual physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual shape and form. And at the same time you remind me that our love is still anchored to reality, therefore there are struggles and limitations, yet they feel so organic, that despite their weight, they are very much worth bearing, that I would rather go through them than live another fiction-like life with another woman.
As for your fear, well, I felt that fear too, yet it was short-lived, for I realized that I should not dread the near-perfection of our connection. There is also another kind of fear I feel with you: the fear of you ceasing to love me because of my flaws – both discovered and otherwise – or because I have fucked shit up to the point of beyond repair. There is also the fear of us falling apart because of some machination of destiny. So I fight those fears, every day, the same way you confirmed and confronted yours, in order for us to be together forever, by loving you earnestly, and by being the best that I can be every time. And even though I fall short with the latter so many times, I want you to know that I earnestly try. I will never give up, because with you I never felt the fear of uncertainty that kept me from being serious with the girls I’ve met in the past, be it those who liked me and those who I thought I like. So you no longer have to hope that I feel the same way too, as I will already confirm that hope: this is it for us, honey.
Up to now, I am still bewildered by all those questions you have. About yourself. About me. About us. About our love. These wonderings of yours are a glimpse of the world that is your soul, whose ocean of thoughts is deep and always ebbing and flowing. I do not know what to do or say about it, because what you think and feel and how you do things aren’t problematic. Rather, they’re reflections of you, and for me to even think that I should change you or “solve” those non-problems would be so pompous and pseudo-messianic of me; all I can do is to love all those parts of you, be with you every step of the way, and help you clear your doubts on love. So please, honey, always be honest and open with me, because I’ll never leave all you and all the truths – good or bad – that make you who you are.
Like I said, you’re who you are, so you’re not a liar and a coward; it’s just that to you, solitude is strength. And I agree; there is a great sense of pride and achievement for pulling yourself up. Relying on oneself, however, is not the only strength there is; there too is the strength we draw from others, the strength they lend us. That is why I’m here, and that’s why we’re together – to draw and lend each other’s strengths. Of course, I respect your need to draw strength from within, but I want you to keep in mind that I’m always here to help you. I’ll give you your much-needed aloneness at times, many times even, but not all time, and not during the times when our relationship lies in the balance.
Last but definitely not least, thank you, that I am able to make you feel a great and range of feelings, that my coming into your life like a sudden rain poured new and more vivid colors into it like a rainbow. Well, the same thing happened when you came into mine. You too were a rainbow. We both are. And this double arch of hues shall, like a monumental arch, shall stand the test of time. For it is – we are – more than stones put together; we are souls intertwined. And I love you, so much.
Bridge and Storm
Written by my girlfriend, Berna:
The very first time we talked, I felt that you represent everything I should have forgotten a long time ago. Books. Anime. Manga. Movies. Daydreaming. Dreaming.
And as we got closer to each other, my initial fear was confirmed. I should have stopped right then, but you opened up to me and I to you in a way that no one ever did before. I should have stopped but it’s too late.
It seems serendipitous, polar opposites meeting and being united by something so strong yet unexplainable and indefinable. It should be lovey-dovey from thereon but a time came wherein I ask myself how and why.
How to make this last? Because unlike what I’ve been through in the past, this is real. This is not some teenage dream that’ll eventually fade through time and trials. This is it for me and I hope for you.
Why now? Because I’m still moving on from the trials I’ve been through in the past. Not just from a petty boy but in life, since I’ve been bombarded by trials ever since. And when we met, I was still tending to my wounds and searching for directions in my life.
How to explain that I need time for myself? Because it’s been the way for me ever since. I don’t talk about problems, I brood over them. I think about them. I don’t want to talk; I just want to be left alone. I don’t need advice from other people; I just need time to figure things out, alone, by myself, on my own.
Why am I doing this to you? Because I don’t trust myself to make relationships last. I can’t even find a friend that is not suffering from depression or other mental health issues. All my friends are mental and I’m not trying to be funny; it’s a fact. All my life people leave, and some say that it’s not my fault, but it’s hard to convince yourself otherwise. It’s hard to say I’m not to blame when one day you’re laughing over silly things then the next they’re not talking to you for months.
Because I’m a coward and a liar. I tell myself I don’t need other people but you showed me how easy life could be if you have someone you can completely be honest with. You showed me that though problems can’t be solved immediately, having someone beside you makes them less hard to bear. You showed me that letting some people you care about know your struggles does not make you a weak person. You showed me that by letting others in, those peoplewho truly care for you, make it easy to conquer challenges and setbacks.
You are my bridge.
When I met you, life was so peaceful and serene. I want to stay and forget the noise of the outside. With you I am at my most peaceful and most vulnerable. You are my favorite place in the world.
You are my comfort yet at the same time you were my storm.
Before you, everything is just pitter-patter. Sometimes I get soaked but most of the time I managed to stay dry and wait for the sun to light my way. Wait for the light because I know it will come, it’s the same every time — it rains for a while, soft drizzle, and I wait just a little; sometimes the rain gets to me but not for long. Before you, everything was just a drizzle that I’ve foolishly mistaken for a storm.
Now that I’m with you, I get to know what it feels like to be comforted and swept away at the same time. Now I know how it is to know peace and when you get out, when I get out from the bridge that you are, everything is extremely close and incredibly loud. You amplified the rain, because of you, because of the force that you are, everything happen sall at once. It made me disoriented at firstmade me scared that I wouldn’t get through it,but you were beside me. And with you I feel like we can do everything if we are together.
I still have a lot to say and these jumbled thoughts are far from what I had in mind, but I believe this messed-up letter to you perfectly conveys the turmoil that you brought in my life.
I put the I in the UNIVERSE. I hope I can put U too. 