The Certainty of Uncertainty

After everything that I have been through, after everything that I have felt, I never expected myself to come to this point. Finally, finally, he decided to take matters into his own hands and ask me the question regarding which path we were taking. He could no longer tell whether or not it was just a physical thing. No matter how hard I try (I cannot be certain if he tries as well), no matter what I did or said, all our moments seem to lead to the realm of physical pleasure. Not that I am complaining. Nor will I ever. One should not begrudge the pleasurable.

I could have left it to him, I could have said that I would go wherever he wanted to lead us to. I could have very well told him about how I felt—or rather, used to feel. That I wanted to make him happy. That all I wanted back in return was the world I was willing to give to him in exchange for my being the sole reason for his happiness.

But I didn’t.

After longing for one single word, after tearing my soul apart in want for reciprocity, it boiled down to that one moment when I realised that he and I had no common ground but the physical aspect of our relationship. And when I learned to accept that, I also learned to be content with what was present between us. Suddenly, the lack of what was concrete did not seem so dismal.

My answer was simple. My life was far too confusing for me to consider men—not that there were other men to consider but him, but there it was. Stability is something that I lack in my life at this point. I know not where I will be four months from now. I cannot possibly imagine to allow myself to build a relationship when I am moving through tracks of life toward an unknown destination.

And so I told him that I only went with where every moment took me. That in this unstable life, the only certainty I had was in every moment.

Carpe diem. Seize the day. Live for the moment, in the moment.

Oh how it once enticed me so! But now that there is nothing I have to live for but the next moment, I find that things are not at all that I expected it to be. It sounds so romantic to live in the moment, and after that, for the next. But the reality of the situation is that it is tiring. And though there is never a want, need or lack for hope, there is a yearning for something more than the certainty of uncertainty.

I suppose I knew all along that I could not count on anything from him. Two people who live their lives waiting for the next moment to come, with absolutely no plans or expectations, cannot deign to hope for more than what the moment gives them. It was foolish of me to imagine that he would have stepped in to say that he would be the one stable thing in my unstable life. That I could count on his certainty in spite of every uncertain moment that passed. It was a dream and nothing more.

I cannot complain of my situation. I chose this path. I chose the allure of uncertainty instead of security. If there is anyone to blame for this less than cheery disposition that I find myself in, there is only me.

It occurs to me that all this time, I have only been considering how I felt and what I wanted with absolutely no regard to his person. Perhaps, after all, it is better this way. I wanted to make him happy, because the knowledge that I did made me happy. It was never about him.

I have no right, nor do I have any reason for bitterness. None whatsoever. So why do I feel as if I’m standing miles away from solace?