It is sad that we didn't make it to our fourth year. Not that the number is the issue, or that there was some form of wager involved, but indeed I was very hopeful, confident really, that things would work out just fine. Slight hiccups along the way and I wouldn't say that the past one and a half year has been smooth-sailing to say the least, but I remained confident, confident that no matter how small a room I had in your heart, there was always a space for me there. This great spatial relationship has taught me, if anything at all, one fundamental thing about you. That love plays a slighted role in your life. What this translates into for me is that I am not going to get a chivalrous knight who will call me to make sure I'm okay, to wipe my tears when I'm feeling low, to accede to my every need in order to please me. No, this is not the guy you are, and I know that perfectly well.

And I accept that.

I accept that you are not the kind of guy who will place me above all, who will, as they say in those corny HK dramas, run to the edges of the world for me (casually translated from tian1 ya2 hai3 jiao3), nor will you get me the moon (or its equivalent practicality) if I so desire it. I also accept that if my desires do not align with your personal interests, desires are what they shall remain. Finally, I also accept that in the grand scheme of things, I will not be the first thing you think of in the morning or the last thing you think of at night, and I am easily ranked after the likes of soccer, sleep and social interactions, and that your life simply does not stop because of what happens to me or what I feel. This, naturally, makes me sad, because I do not personally enjoy the feeling of being slighted, but this is also something I have grown to accept and accommodate.

I am not saying all this to point out your flaws or to devalue you, I am not even complaining about you at this moment. The reason I am saying this is to let you and myself know that I accept all of that about you. I no longer doubt you when you say this is the most you can go, and I do not harbour any suspicions towards you. I am saying that in spite of all this, I still love you.

In exchange, I ask that you similarly accommodate my idiosyncrasies and bad temper, my constant annoyance at you and the things around me various, and my expressive need to vent albeit recklessly. To do so, the least I am asking for is for you to respond to me and to reply me. Even if it is a hurried and crass TTYL or Busy or Dinner. Even if you are really so busy you cannot check your phone and engage in conversation. It's fine then, I will just miss you, just say what I want to say, and wait for your reply the next day.

Only that reply never comes.

Which drives me senseless and leaves me completely bewildered. Is it possible that in the entire day, when you are possibly taking a dump, walking from one classroom to another or maybe having lunch, you don't have the time to send me a text as well? Come on. Any rational being will know that no matter how busy you are, you do have time to send a text. Pretty sure even PM Lee has the occasion to send a friendly text message to his loved ones, even if that might be while he is taking a dump. I find it ridiculous that I am subject to your whims and fancies, that my emotions sway as your replies come and go, and that you saying Good Morning actually drove me deliriously happy. I find myself a constant slave to your responses, begging you to spare me a reply, a mere 5 seconds of your time to show that you thought of me. Only to be sorely disappointed when I wake up and see no sign of that thought, no sign of concern to the things I've so eagerly conveyed to you, no sign of you at all.

So I'm losing it.

At this very moment, I am trying my very best to remain in control, but the tears are welling up in my eyes, clouding my vision and my thoughts, before I decisively sweep them away as they accelerate down my cheeks. I am sad, sad that things have had to turn out this way because I couldn't keep up with the vagaries of space and time and because I couldn't keep up with you. It is lamentable that the distance got to the better of us and that I can't quite get a grip of you anymore. So here I am sitting before the photos of us on my wall, and lamenting that this has had to happen because I know we are great together. I believe you, and I still do, when you say that you love me, unconditionally. As much as my angry verbal diarrhea tends to spout otherwise, I do not doubt your love for me. And this is precisely why it makes me so sad that what we have between us, what that is so beautiful and real and spontaneous, has been reduced to this miserable begging for a text.

So what I have decided to do today is not because I don't love you anymore. More than ever, I, and you, know how much I love you. Likewise, I know that you still love me. It's not that we don't love each other anymore, and that is why it is so sad. Like witnessing the flowers wilt or knowing that butterflies don't live longer than 14 days, it is a great, great pity. Sure, new flowers bloom and more butterflies are born, but no other love is going to burn brighter than the sun.

Ours did. Still does. But maybe not right now.

Given the current situation, it is perhaps the most ideal for you to be left alone and for me to stop begging. After all, whether or not I cut my finger, ate a delicious dinner or cycled for 2 hours doesn't really matter to you - I just thought you would like to know. Perhaps you do, perhaps you don't, but seeing as you rarely go to lengths about what you have been doing, I am leaning towards the latter. Similarly, what good does it render me to tell you all that I am feeling? Sometimes it doesn't even play to my advantage because you either do not reply, leading to immense, immense frustration, or you do reply and that reply could be a total disaster, especially after the frustration, or it could just cause more sorrow because you can't be here to comfort me. In all senses of the situation, it sucks.

Realistically speaking, of course I don't want this to end. Deep down, buried under all the emotions and frustration and logistical mess, is a heart that knows where it belongs. I am confident, and fully aware actually, that if I had the means to fly back and find you tomorrow (which is Labour Day), you would be free and you would meet me and we would go for breakfast and lunch and dinner and maybe snacks and bubble tea in between and we would wander the streets of Singapore hand in hand and we would be chipper and laughing and have an absolutely splendid time doing nothing like we do best. I would fly back the next morning and things would revert to the state it is now in no time, because that's just how it is. In certain ways I guess I could say long distance is as much your thing as it isn't, because you handle it so well yet so poorly at the same time.

For now though, I have decided to adopt this course of action I have so chosen. May you be waiting for me on the other side at the end of it all. It would be my only light at the end of the tunnel.