let me tell you a tale — Dari Mentari: I knew I'd lose him
Samudera Khagi wasn't someone I could have for my own. I'd like to start with that.
Samudera Khagi was always an interesting person. At first because of his charms, then his personality, and finally his story. He might look like your university friend you hang out with from time to time. He could be a nice friend you fell in love with. When you hear my stories, he might sound like a heartbreaker — which despite not being entirely wrong, I wouldn't agree.
Samudera Khagi wasn't a heartbreaker, he was just someone you couldn't have — I couldn't have. I knew he wasn't just someone I could win over by love. I've had my assumption for a long time, although it took me some time to reach the conclusion. There was a time when I held onto a thread of hope. There was a time when I believed we could be something. There was actually a time when everything was so promising. Everything was also an empty promise, sadly. Hope was getting far away, reality became so clear, and the end of us was more and more visible. That's how I knew I'd get a heartbreak, but he wasn't a heartbreaker.
Samudera Khagi wasn't someone I could have, therefore I knew I'd lost him.
I was aware of what I was getting into the moment I decided to fall in love with him. I was aware of the danger, the risk, and the possible end. I was aware that Samudera Khagi wasn't just someone you could fall in love with and have a cute love story with. Unrequited love was a dangerous game on its own. The fact that Samudera Khagi wasn't made for love only made it a losing game. He wasn't made for love, he was made to bear a burden — which actually was a situation he made for himself.
I was aware that I'd lose him. I didn't know when or how but surely I'd lose him someday. Our story wasn't set for a happy ending or an eternity. If anything, our story was set to end — probably in a short time and in the worst way possible. So, I let go of the hopes and promises — I shouldn't hold ones in the first place. I held to the only thing I could, which was love. I held onto my love for him and let go of anything else. I said to myself that I'd love him and I'd continue to love him while I could. In a story where the ending was predetermined, the best I could do was to enjoy the story while it lasted.
I was aware of the moment when I was losing him. I was aware of the whole process. He was barely in sight, our plans were canceled, he ignored my messages, and we didn't talk about it when we met. We avoided the topic of being together and staying together because those were false hopes. We avoided the topic of missing, disappearing, and suffering — and losing — because we were aware enough about what was happening. I was aware enough of what was happening.
When he came with a cake ten minutes before my birthday ended, looked exhausted from driving, crying, and living in general, I could sense what was happening. When he talked about saying holiday greetings in advance, I could sense what was coming. When he held my hands and kissed me gently — slowly, I could sense what he was doing. And when I didn't feel excited about the kiss and cried instead, I knew we were heading toward the end.
He was making a pretty last scene, because I was losing him.
I was losing him and I'd let him go because holding him would only result in nothing. I was losing him, I knew it, and I would let it happen. I was a desire he could resist, a chapter he could skip, and a backburner he could put at the very back of his life. We were a burden he could throw away to lighten up his shoulders. I was willing to be thrown away if things were getting heavier for him.
I was losing him and I'd let him go. Because Samudera Khagi wasn't someone I could have and I was bound to lose him.