Perfect is such a figurative word. Everybody wants a "perfect score" on every test. Everybody wants to have a "perfect life". Every girl wants to meet that "perfect guy" and have a "perfect love story". But you see, "perfect" doesn't exist, it never existed! All hopes and dreams will just shatter with that word. Still, everybody hopes for one.
I thought I once had that "perfect love". He wasn't perfect at all, but for me, he's all that I needed. He's a gentleman, caring, sweet, understanding, funny, always there for me, to protect me, and he loved me. He's the living definition of "perfect" to me. But like what I said ("All hopes and dreams will just shatter... blahblahblah..), "perfect" doesn't exist, right? My "perfect" man did, but the "perfect" love didn't last as long as I thought it would be.
He never left my side. He was my knight-in-shining-armor. He was there to protect me. He was there for me especially in times I never expect him to be there. He loved me whole-heartedly. He took care of me as I was somewhat something precious. He gave me everything (non-material) that I needed. He made me realize that I didn't need any material thing just to be happy. He wrote me love letters. He gave me gifts, even at times when there's no occasion. He was there during my ups-and-downs. He fought for me. He was my pillow, my shoulder to cry on, my comfort zone. He was my cookie, my baby, my baby bear, my journal. He proved to me that he can go out of his way just for me. He was there to be with me whenever I was lonely. He never failed to show me how much he cares for me, how much he loves me, how much I mean to him, how important I was to him. As for me? I never failed to do anything. I knew how much he loved me, and I knew how much I loved him. Though words can never express it.
I loved him with all my heart. I fought for him. I wanted to be with him. But somehow, sometimes he feels like I wasn't "acting like myself." My reason? I was so scared that my parents would find out. Why? Just because I didn't want to lose him, I never want to lose him. He kinda understood that. but...
When I broke it off, I told him why. Studies. Studies. Studies. It's true. But I didn't tell him about my family. He knew I didn't want to lose the trust my parents entrusted to me. What he didn't know, was they kinda know about it.
He made promises. He swore. Every little thing he said, I believed him. I never doubted that he would fail to do them, because he never failed to do what he told me he would. He said he's wait, I believed, I waited. Months I've endured without him. It was hard, I must say. But I knew I had to go through it, I kept thinking that this is only a challenge. But I thought wrong.
On the seventh month, I asked him again. He couldn't answer. I asked him if he loved me. He kept on saying stuffs. But he couldn't say yes or no. I was hurt. It felt like someone has stabbed my heart and kept on stabbing it until there was nothing left of it. Then it struck me, I waited for something that would never happen.:(
