‘500 DAYS OF SUMMER’,
OF YOU AND I.
He’s probably swearing my name, having seen all of my blog articles about him. He’s probably infuriated that I’ve written as if he weren’t a good man, a good lover, a good friend to me. Maybe he’s thinking, now I’ve made him look like an inconsiderate and selfless arsehole to the people who’ve read my stories.
No. You are a good man and you loved me as much as your heart can. That alone is enough.
I will never deny that he made me feel that I was at my best. He was the one who made me realize I can achieve so much and be so much better than I already am. He gave me a reason to straighten out the wrong things about myself that needed to be. Because of him, I strove for improvement. But this is not just about being a better me. Those weren’t the only things he provided me with.
Because he was good to me and he loved me. He cared for me and he never became a little less of being a boyfriend — and an ‘almost’. I felt it real, I felt adored and he didn’t let me go through tough times alone. He was there. He was my shoulder to lean on, a night in shining armor, an ear to tell stories to, and a buddy to be crazy and have good times with. And no, not just good times. There were bad days and he was there for me to make those days better. Bad wasn’t bad at all with him. He made me feel that as long as he’s there, I won’t have to worry about being lonely and frustrated and ugly because he knows I’m strong and a happy person and being ugly won’t matter. He liked me whoever I was and whatever I’ve been through.
I was ecstatic. It was pure bliss, having him in my life. It didn’t matter if the good times happened at the start of the relationship, or when he got back to me, or during the final week together.
Do you happen to know someone that gives you as much joy just by being there? I know one. It didn’t matter if we were friends, or lovers, or ‘almosts’, but the mere fact that he’s with me, gives content.
HE’S SPECIAL. I AM SPECIAL. AND WE HAD A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP. WE WERE BOTH CRAZY.
He’d always argue that he’s not crazy, that I alone is. But I know he is too. And I love him for secretly being extraordinary with me.
And he loved me for who I am. He found my childish, strong, weird and bold personality wonderful. He knows me. He understood my insecurities and he respected them. He didn’t mind them. To him, I was just fine.
He knew I was too thin but he still thought I was pretty. He knew it was bad. So he wanted me to stop being too hard on myself and he helped me gain my love for curves, without being afraid of being too fat or being too ugly. Because for him, it doesn’t matter. He just wanted me eating, and healthy.
He loved my hair long. He knew I liked it that way — hair touching the small of my back. He knew I was afraid of cutting it because it might turn out a disaster. Short hair never worked out for me before. But then I cut my hair. And he adored me still.
He loved to calling me ugly, but I know he believed otherwise. His eyes told it so. His tone of his voice would always prove it wrong.
I didn’t mind how many times he had teased me because he’d already let me feel enough that I was beautiful in my own perfect way.
The thing is, it was not the make-up or the clothes that I wore or the shoes that I walked with that made me pretty. It was the goodness inside, the love that he was giving, the energy he was channeling, that beamed through. But he made me realize I was perfect enough, with or without my insecurities and flaws, with or without him. That I am fine by myself. I am a standalone.
He made me strong. He made me believe in myself so much. He’s a good man. He’s a loyal friend. He may be confused, he might be wrong sometimes, but he has a lot of love to give. I respect him.
He lent me a jacket when I was cold. He brought umbrella, he knew I was lazy to bring one; He doesn’t want me to get soaked in rain. He called me morning and night because he wanted to hear my voice. He missed me after a week. He walked me home everyday because “it’s safer that I walk alone than to leave you walking home by yourself.” He needed to know where am I when he’s not with me. He needed to know I was fine. He knew of my weaknesses and he was careful of them.
He needs love, too, as much as we all do.
He shared me his problems, though I know opening up to people has always been a difficult thing to do for him. He’s a private person. He has his weaknesses too, and he had let me see them. He’s jolly but his life does have tears, rips, holes in it. He’s tough but he’s shed me tears. He let me know himself. He introduced me to George. He let me into his life.
He gave me time. He gave me a part of him.
He has been an honest person. And he loved me.
He might have lied — everyone does — a few times, but he only did because he didn’t want to hurt me. I believe so.
I respect him.
Correct me if I’m wrong.
People change. Feelings change. It doesn’t mean that the love once sheared wasn’t true or real. It simply means that sometimes when people grow, they grow apart.
I know I may have said things to him and about him. I know I must have been dealing with extreme sadness and lots of emotions these past few days: anger, denial, fear, jealousy, envy. I know it must be unfair to him that he doesn’t get to speak for himself and that what you’re reading in this blog are all parts of my side of story, my feelings alone. But he is a good man, no denying. He values his friends so much and he doesn’t fake love. He has weak parts as well and mood swings but he’s a fighter in all aspects of life. He’s genuine and he can be soft.
And now, if you’re reading this —
You are wonderful, Monkey. You have been.
