Have you ever been loved? I don’t know. But as I look back at some of my old notes, I realize that this may be the closest I’ve ever come to experiencing love in the past 33 years. I think now it’s finally time to document those memories on love.
I like what’s written in my notes years ago, and here’s how it reads:
“Where do I even start? No pressure, no pressure… but I can’t stop getting lost in the togetherness we shared. ‘Togetherness’—that’s the word. I don’t speak your mother tongue, so I guess I can’t truly speak to your heart.
The trip was comfortable and relaxing, yet here I am, surrounded by crowds of young people. I’ve always hated crowds, but when we were together, my emotions felt connected to something real. I didn’t feel awkward or alone like I do now. Right now, I’m trying to make myself comfortable on these stairs, laying back a little, taking off my coat—music playing in the background. Music is everything you’ve left for me !
I wore black those days because everyone told me I was too tanned. I noticed it too, and it made me less confident facing the mirror. I’m not wearing my glasses now, which makes it easier to focus on typing. I always thought about bringing my laptop with me to pretend to be one of those cool freelancers, but it’s too heavy for my skinny shoulders.
I had planned to write this letter to you in the hospital. Just now, two male doctors touched my breasts—super awkward. But I guess they’ve gotten so used to seeing boobies, to them, it’s just meat on a plate. But for me, anyone who touches my body like that must be someone special.
I watched Lady Chatterley’s Lover last night, trying to tire myself out. But when I woke up, I reached for you, only to feel the wall—empty, despair. There’s a line in the movie that stuck with me: ‘The touch of the one, which is hard to forget for ages.’ Do you enjoy my touch? Will I always remember yours? I don’t know.”
I’m the kind of person who falls easily, but I rarely insist. When I say I love you, I mean it. But I’ve said it to so many, sometimes I wonder what love really is. But in these moments of life, only love can describe them. No pressure though—I’m not asking for marriage. And it’s perfectly fine if you don’t love me back. I’ve treasured those precious moments with you and I’ll hold onto them with the most beautiful words in the world.
I miss you, and I’m trying so hard not to text you. It’s hard not to, though—there’s something comforting about receiving a message from someone you’re missing at that very moment.
Yes, it’s a bit annoying when I say “I love you,” and you reply with, “I know, and thank you.” I take it as a rejection. But is there ever a moment when you feel something different too? People often avoid saying “I love you,” but we should always have the courage to express it. I’m not afraid to get hurt. Yes, it hurts when I don’t get a “I love you too” in return, but who knows—love may not last forever, but the moments we shared while falling in love are treasures, like gold.
Right now, I’m in the midst of the most turbulent emotions, trying to focus on work, but missing you. It’s a feeling I haven’t had in a long time, and I know I should cherish it because, most of the time, life feels so stale.
You didn’t look back when you left, walking down that narrow hotel aisle. I was so close to running after you for one last hug, but I didn’t want to bother you. Instead, I held onto the door. I didn’t cry for long. The carpet felt so cold. I didn’t get on the boat the next morning either. I checked out at the airport, and it was impossible to go back again.
Without you, I could be independent, asking strangers for directions. It was easy to get back by taxi, and it cost less. You might not like me being too dependent on you, but I liked being silly by your side. No worries, I’ll always take care of myself when there’s no one to rely on. But thank you for letting me rely on you, even for that short time. It made my life more colorful.
Where to start, how to end? I don’t wish to end here, but every story has an ending. Nobody knows what the future holds. I hope you meet someone you want to kiss every five minutes. I already miss the moments when I craved your kisses and hugs in Thailand. I felt like a silly little girl in love, holding hands with the man she adored. Nothing lasts forever, and the Thailand Falls may disappear soon, but I’ll always carry it with me.
When I came back, I felt different too. Trying to drink to sleep better, trying to hang out with friends so I wouldn’t be alone. Missing someone is hard, but those periods will pass. I’m not ready to let go, though.
I uploaded all our pictures to the cloud, stopping myself from checking them over and over. I read your letter, re-read it, and then decided to toss it away. I don’t keep materials, but I keep the memories.
You liked me before the trip. The reasons sound foreign to me. Deep inside, I’m still the same person from college—lazy, afraid of crowds. But I like you when you’re so focused on your work. I like that you haven’t changed much from my memory—always warm and patient. I
like your deep eyes, which hold stories you’ll never tell. I like your American chill, how you’re comfortable around crowds. I like how you help others, always polite and kind. I like your dog-like hairs and those moments of awkwardness. I like you singing my songs and playing childish games with me. I like the way you float in the water, feeling the freedom. I like you stealing glances at me when there are people around. I like how you always ask if I’m okay.
I like all of these things about you. It’s been so much fun with you—more than I ever deserved. Thank you for that.
Forgive me for being a child, for not hiding my emotions and being unstable in my feelings. But I don’t want to change that, even if it means not being more ‘mutual.’ I like keeping my childish side until the day I die. No worries—marriage and commitments aren’t on my list for this life. I’m more prepared to be single. So my love for you is pure—it’s about the moments we shared, with no pressure. Love fades easily, but I’ll always be the one who catches it every time it slips through my fingers. I feel it when you touch my hair, when you hold me close. Thank you!
I hope I will always have the courage to pursue love and remain that fearless girl who wrote the notes above. I actually wrote a book about this love experience, but I guess he never read it. It’s all raw, and I don’t yet have the experience to edit it, but someday, it may emerge as a brand-new story. I have faith—not in love, but in myself—for now.
Here is the book, if you care to read it!
