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Morong, Bataan | December 1, 2019
And maybe dreams and people are like sands. The more you grasp them tighter, the more they will likely to slip through your fingers.
You were the one who told me that. You said I was too stubborn and steadfast that when I set my mind on something, I would never stop until I get it.
"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked laughingly.
"Yes, it is, but," you sighed then continued, "you don't need determination and resolve all the time. Sometimes, all you need is faith—"
"You know I don't believe in things like that."
You chuckled and said that I should hear you out first.
"If they are really for you, you won't need to tighten your hold around them because they would gladly stay."
"And what would happen if my hold remained firm?"
"They would slip through your fingers, be washed away from the shore, and sink beneath the waves. Do you want that?"
I said no. And we said nothing more about that topic and talked about the ocean instead.
You were always like that. You were someone I could always lean on and talk to. You were my confidant.
You always tell me the things you think are right and I should do.
And I always believe in everything you say.
But I'm still standing here on the shore. I'm still looking at the endless chances and questions that are stretched far beyond me, waiting for you to show up.
Did I hold you too tight?
Were you washed away from the shore and engulfed by the waves or were you simply not for me that's why you did not stay?
