I have never been in love.
As I began the mundane task of tagging each of my old entries on this blog, I realized I’ve never really written about stuff that deserved the “heart matters” tag.
I turned 26 three months ago. I’m older than a lot of the patients I’ve encountered who already have at least one child. The cousins who are in my age group are either married or in a stable relationship. I am not.
I wonder if I am mentally incapable of finding love. I wonder if I will ever find that one man who can truly fascinate me as much as my life fascinates him.
“Oo naman” (Of course, you will) is what a well-meaning friend said when I voiced this out loud. Every little girl dreams of that perfect wedding where she finally shares her life with the man who will accept her for all her faults and live with her through all the tribulations. I was that girl, too, but none of the men I’ve met have ever come close to that.
When I see couples in a restaurant, at a moviehouse or heck, even at home (with my parents), I feel curious. How were they able to find that person who deserved their time and their affection? How would it feel to trust your heart in the hands of somebody else’s?
Love, they say, is the most bittersweet experience. I have been privy to stories of heartbreaks and shattered dreams. “Ang pinakamahirap pala ay iyong pagkagising mo sa umaga at alam mong hindi ka na niya mahal.” (I’ve realized that the most difficult part is waking up in the morning and knowing that he doesn’t love you anymore.) When I hear of these things, I feel lucky that I am not as vulnerable to have my heart trampled on.
I hate to admit it, but I don’t think my heart can endure such pain.
