Bucket List
The day after we parted ways, I looked at our 1-week bucket list made during our “summer fling” (which didn’t end up being a fling!) on Notion. As my eyes traced the list, I started checking off the boxes, just like the summer we just started dating. This time though, I was checking them on my own, without you by my side.
Apart of me yearned to implore, “Let’s check all the boxes together. Let’s finish the bucket list, then we can bid farewell.” In my heart, I hoped new items and “Let’s” would materialize endlessly, one after another until forever.
Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. I would just ask for more because my heart longs for closure. But how does one find closure when you were the very source of it, filling the voids I didn’t even know existed in me?
Perhaps we stopped sharing pieces of our heart overtime. Perhaps the long distance strained our hearts. Perhaps we grew apart.
Or simply, we grew up.
We were once starry-eyed high school sweethearts; with so much dreams reflecting in our eyes and our understanding of reality so limited. Overtime, we stepped into the real world, and our feet would be cut by the shattered glass of reality because we were both weak for the world. We were ill-equipped for the real world because our love bred in a greenhouse — so we kept running away from reality. We ran to each other whenever we got blisters, whenever splintered pieces emerged and hurt. We hid in the greenhouse we built.
The greenhouse was nice and warm. But we never found the splinters to pull out, because that’s something we, individually, need to discover and pull out ourselves. But we never developed callouses for our blisters because our bodies develop callouses on its own, after processes that we individually endure.
With the opening and closing of the doors, our sensitive plants started to wilt from the polluted air of reality because we carried too much shatter pieces and pain. On one night, one of us made the decision to lock the door to protect the greenhouse we built together from the dirty real world.
I’m grateful for the shelter you provided, the solace you offered to my fragile heart. I miss you… a lot. Pretty trees, pretty flowers, Thai green curry, cute dogs, McDonalds, chicken nuggets, bbq ribs, jalapeno chips, Ike’s Sandwich, my room, my bed… all remind me of you. These moments stab my heart like shattered glass, but differently than the ones from reality. These ones are coarse, and they’ll eventually become sand that glistens under the sun. Our moments, our love and our greenhouse, too, shimmer like magic.
With all the magic we had - we have, I’ll use it to propel me forward, guiding me to find closure within myself and forge my own armor against reality. Instead of running, I’m facing my shattered glass head-first, pulling out splinters once-and-for-all. Maybe I’ll check off remaining bucket list items while I’m at it — on my own this time.
Perhaps, one day, one individual adorned with shining armor and glistening healed scars guided by another individual embellished with gleaming armor and beautifully healed scars will dig up the keys to their greenhouse together.
