They say you can never forget the first one, and that the second one is sweeter – much sweeter I should say. What could be the meaning of this? All emotions rewrite while retaining the original; but the rewrite is something better when it is felt as though it became the original. The first one might just be the precursor – the second one, it is it.
For the past 23 years and n days of my life, not only am I delusional in saying there is no original, but that the second one has already replaced its status. I have made it a crucial point in saying that I have found true love the second time and it was it – it is it. Given the instance that I have not really made up a lot of times to think about it, I knew when I felt that this is something meant. I have in the early years of my life accustomed to being the second, the second option, the second placer – the one original second, as if it was meant that I have to stick with this place all my life.
The question of freedom enters here as well. It also appears that I have no pure choice; I have to orient myself that all I can have is the second one. What is this feeling? It is simply being non-Absolute. That I have nothing to brag except that I am trying, always, in this state where I am always looking up, always wanting myself to become better.
This way, I cannot blame myself for being the loneliest. There are of course times when I have reached that being first status, but in those times, I have already felt what it is to be there. Some “at last!” moments are buoyant to feel, but the hard work, the concentration, the focus – all these are a lonely endeavor. Pushing myself to that place was not only exhausting and rewarding at the same time but was hard – and I have to be hard for it. Those times were special, and were enough, just to tell me that I can.
However real I also recognize that there are new paths to being lonely, to being the first, I also realized that life as a whole is not only making history and giving contribution in the frontline. The ordinary is more romantic and tempting. It tells me that living is much precious in the end.
What makes this harder however is the fact that I have already oriented myself to be alone and yet I cannot seem to get there, to that same feeling before.
I think it bothers me. It is a failure, it would seem, to be stagnant. I have lost and failed a lot of times, as all others are. The real is just so captivating than the optimist. One can only imagine how life would turn out when all optimism realizes what is real – what is trying, hurting, and lost.
I am only thankful that I can still write this; this lonely sheet as it was before as it is now. But let me translate this now before anything ambiguous and paranoid might contaminate this sheet.
The thing is: life is hard. I am a seminarian. I am also in love, romantically. I have fallen in love the first time, the original feeling – but I was lonely, I felt incomplete. I fell in love the second time, and I no longer had the same feeling before – that love has become the original one. I made it first before, but that feeling is now gone. This second time made me feel contented. I felt I have the choice to prefer not to, but at the same time I felt that I am just afraid to be in that state again. The second is always sweeter as it is true for me. And that conclusion is just right because the second one is already over also. The life of a priest is a path of self-sacrifice, so hard, and so precious that it is a feeling of being first, in the eyes of the Lord and of the people. I have yet to find detours, along the contours of letting go and going back, to muster the strength for that lonely spotlight. God! Help me as I rewrite my life!