Transparent.

Maybe I’ve tried my best to look composed and calm, making sure I was prepared for all questions with definite answers. Maybe I’ve avoided being silent in fear that I’d lose myself in a vulnerable smile that exposes my heart so trustfully and willingly. Maybe I’ve pretended to be confident and structured, just to show you what I’m striving for— the perfection I’m willing to achieve.

Yet, you smile. Only that. Your eyes dance with a hope that speaks so much and I can’t help but understand it. You show me how unsure you are about certain things, show me your unanswered questions and unwritten dreams through words you utter so gracefully. Gently, you lay out the lost puzzle pieces of your visions, hoping that I’d intertwine mine with them. With the nods of my head, you can already tell how close we are in our dreams, though far in worldly dimensions. You smile even more deeply, captivating every part of me, each time we grow in touch.

And somewhere in between, I become myself. I become quite confused and scattered. I lose my well-planned soliloquies. I stutter and can’t find words to say. I feel my cheeks turn crimson and fingertips get unbearably cold. I am who I am again, right in front of you, before your ethereal smile.

I did not want to be so transparent, still. I wanted to lay out my complete puzzle pieces first so that we could sort them out together but perhaps, the only things I managed to tell you is how thankful I am for the bigger picture of my life and how confused I am for all the details in between. You still smile and I shake my head with how many “I don’t know”s I said. I tell myself it’s okay. I tell myself that I’m imperfect and that it’s okay. You say it’s okay, too.

As we said goodbye quite casually, I felt quite changed. Though desperate to see you again, to gaze into your eyes and feel electrified by your silence, I decide to be patient. I decide to take it too slowly, to let time simmer that love in our hearts, strengthening it with pining and anticipation, a long journey of growth and maturity.

You tell me to rest and maybe I’ll listen. You know how self-destructive I could be with all of my out-of-balance thoughts. Your words pin me to the earth gracefully, bind me down by gravity, but build me wings to soar towards the ideals of my dreams— till I become the dream itself.

And I shall be patient. One day, this winter night will have both of us. One of us perhaps overworked and tired, the other placing warm fingertips on cold skin. It will be us placing our heads on each others’ shoulders in the late hours of the night. It will be me listening to your breaths at dawn, and you listening to mine at midnight.

It will be exactly how we intend it to be, and God knows best, dearest. God knows.