Translated by Ardain Isma
CSMS Magazine Staff Writer
After a long pause, CSMS Magazine has decided to continue this rubric. Those of you who have been asking for it, you’ll now have a field day.
I read your response last night with the utmost importance. The meticulousness of your recollection and the precise wording being used here tell me how much those unforgettable memories meant and still mean to you. With glee, I read your holy account, and this has swelled even more my desire to be with you forever. I am now convinced that all these years, we have been nothing but strayed lovers on a mission to re-conquer a dazzling past.
I read your letter more than a hundred times, and each time with an unbelievable intensity quite higher than the previous one. I lie in bed lurching and swerving sideways in the midst of my lonely night with your letter gently displayed on my chest, searching for the infinite comfort between the carefully written lines. Some are quite reassuring; others leave me dubious, which forces me to spend hours pondering the outcome of this once-in-a-life-time opportunity.
Since our first meet in this prowling university, I just can’t cease to think of you. I understand love sometimes hurts, but it can also heal, especially if the lone romancero is ready to intertwine his life with yours, ready to share you pain, your joy, your hope, and all anxiety that comes with living in complex societies.
I wish I could turn back the clock, going in retrospect just to relive those happy moments that will forever remain hidden deep in my heart. At the beginning, I used go to Saint Louis every summer in an attempt to recreate my childhood memories. Convinced that I was condemned to die in solitude, I slowly drifted to my loneliness, embracing a precarious sentimentalism foregrounded in the logic of those who live in hermitage. Like a solitary child nestled in his snug, warm bed, I long for the day you will come to shine my path, rekindle my life with your yielding, malleable gaze.
I long for that romantic stroll down the golden beach of Lester Déré near the river delta under the almond trees. I long for the magic touch that will soothe the pain of my compressed heart, and that will chase away my seemingly endless melancholy.
You’ve asked me to show you that I love you, and you’ll be mine forever. How could that happen if you’re not ready to land me the chance to prove my unshakable love for you? It’s true your charming feature looks more revealing than it was when we were gamins, running wild without ever trying to camouflage our innocence. But to me, you mean more than just savoring a sexually explicit moment. My love goes beyond your sate of being. It transcends all form of romantic sentimentalism. Je veux vivre pour toi pour toujours. I wanna live for you forever.
If you choose to turn back on me, I don’t know what will come of me. If you think it’s already too late to bring back what was lost long ago, before you vanish once again from me radar screen, please teach me how to live without you.
Sincerely, Y. L.
Also see The Roses of Last Spring Part 2(Angeline’s response)
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