Maybe one day I’ll talk about why this half-in-love loving feels significant; maybe someday I’ll finally be able to reconcile with the ghosts from my past and the humans in my heart; maybe one day I’ll muster enough courage to admit out loud the reasons for believing I am handicapped when it comes to love, incapable and a foreigner to love; maybe someday I’ll finally be able to express, coherently and truthfully, exactly what and why my belated realization of A’s presence is soul-shaking.
“Now that I am older, I’m no longer hard on those who want marriage for themselves. Personally, I don’t understand that desire and wanting – but I respect and accept that each of us have different desires and aspirations in life.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you know me well enough – you’ll know I have strong opinions about the institution of marriage. Unfavorable, even. I think I just generally hate how marriage is perceived and viewed in our society and Asian societies; I think I’m still angry about this, even now. But mostly it’s that I just… I’ve seen and heard enough, I think, that I understand what it is and isn’t, and the trade-offs and sacrifices which will eventually follow. Marriage is… many things. And even the best love falters-“
“But you’ve your parents. Aren’t their relationship your example and evidence?”
I paused, uncertain of my next move and response.
“No,” I finally blurted out, making a face as I said these words. “There’s love, and… but… no.”
That day has yet to arrive.