are we really

meant to be?

it’s always the same story told in different ways. and when i’m all set to end it, you would turn up ready to start wherever we left off.

i don’t know why but you always make me smile. and that’s all i need. to smile again. then i am fine once more. good as new. that’s why no matter how ready i am, i never get to really end the story. our story.

it doesn’t always work that way with you, though. it even irritates you when i try to make you smile after a bad day. you say i drive you crazy. no, you say i make you crazy. you say it like it’s a bad thing. you always seem more ready to end the story than i am.

a friend of yours told me “maybe he wants to be an astronaut; he wants space.” i considered his remark despite his odd disposition. but today came. you dropped by our house for me. we had a quiet ride to school. we had lunch. this time, we talked. you kissed me goodbye and told me to wait for you in this computer shop. i think space is the least of what you really want.

i am puzzled by your mood swings. sometimes i am confused of your feelings for me. yet i admit my faith in the love we share.

we have been like this for more than a year now. we fight, really fight. we say mean things to each other, which we do not mean anyway. but we get teary-eyed when we consider putting a comma to our story. we become more tied to each other just thinking how a period is not always far from the last comma. so we kiss and make up and become lovebirds again.

so i resolved to take our story one moment in time. to cherish what is still ours. for only in the end of this lifetime would we know if indeed we really are meant to be.

i don’t want to spend a lifetime doubting our destiny. i want to live making it.

i love you.

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