What is LOVE? (Another cliché)

What is love?

Sunday, 2am...

I was still up, I haven't really had enough sleep for two days now. It doesn't matter. It wasn't supposed to matter. I'm doing this for a reason. "Hello?" It's him again. He's speaking to me as if I can see his face vividly. "Hi." Sometimes, I think I've known him my entire life.

3am...

Yes. It's him, all right. He hasn't change. After more than four years, he's still not changed. "What? What are you thinking?" He's asking me. But what I really wanted to ask him was how he has been. But I can't. I just can't. What's he thinking? Does he think that I have changed?

4am...

Sleep devoid us. This is weird. (I only had three hours of sleep yesterday, and I'm still up.) So, when are we sleeping? Isn't it a little too late? No. It doesn't matter. It won't matter. It's him. And who knows when this will stop, right? This feeling. This connection. 

5am and counting...

He's getting the hang of it. I'm getting used to this. Finally, he's opening up to me...

He was a boy.

She, a girl.

No. This is not another Avril Lavigne's Skaterboi.

This has been his story. His LOVE story. 

For four years that I've known him, there is one thing that I am sure of. He loved.

He loved one girl. And she was the only one that he had loved like this. And this long. 

They were in love, or at least, that's what I think, 'til now. He was always there for her, every step of her way. He's her hero, one way or another.

She needs someone to help her with schoolwork. He was there to become that someone.

She gets drunk. He was there to fetch her and lead her home.

She gets her hurt broken. He was there to pick up every single piece and place them back together.

She gets frustrated with her life. He was there to smooth things back for her.

She meets a guy. He was there to watch them as they get to know each other, his own heart breaking in pieces.

He was her homie, her sanctuary, her safe zone, her healing place -- her paradise. But paradise isn't always that appealing, is it? After she gets her heart mended by him, she gets out of her comfort zone again, looking for another adventure. Yes, he was her fortress. She sets to hunt for a man, and gets back wounded. He's there to help her regain what has been lost.

It went on and on for years. I watched him die a little each day. I watched him bleed in despair as he picks up his heart's own shattered pieces. I was there. Though not physically, but I was there figuratively. 

When will it stop? When will he get tired of all the hurt? (When will I stop hurting?) I wished I had his patience, or wished I could take it all away, all the hurt away. But I can't and I won't. This is his battle -- his nemesis to conquer. 

He can't forever walk on her shadows. He has to stand up firmly and do what he thinks is right. He has all the answers to his questions. He has them with him. 

I didn't write this because I wanted him for myself. No. In fact, I'm in no place to meddle into things I have no business with. This is not my fight. This, again, is not my story.  I just want him to be happy.

So, I ask you again. What is love?

Love, for me, is when you care for someone so deeply that you don't want them to get hurt. You care for them yet you don't pick them up when they stumble or fall short because you know that they can get their selves up, by themselves. You care enough for them that you wait until they realized how foolish they were to let others hurt them. You care that even when it hurts you to see them in every heartbreaking situation, you just let it be (let it happen), because you know that they will soon just come to their senses. You care tooooo damn much for them that you listen to them as they talk about their love stories without you in it. 

Love is when you are happy for them even when it's not you they are happy with.<3