Let Me Love You. 

(Yes, the title of this article is inspired by the cheesy song that has been looping on local radio all day long. Welcome to the Top 40s life. Indulge me. It’s all I really bother to consume these days for international music.) 

Just a day ago, I finally spent Darren’s birthday with him. Even though we have been together for almost a rough three years, I was never physically present for his previous birthdays. 

The first year, I was working at the Asian Civilisation Museum for their escape game. The second year, I was off in Hong Kong with some aunts of mine. This year, I almost decided to pack up and go for an overseas work assignment. Somehow, the world conspired to keep me here in Singapore and that assignment was completely postponed. 

Due to a multitude of reasons, and the surprise postponement, I failed to plan something for his birthday. Always distracted and unsure. So occupied with my own reasons of failure. 

But with a small push and a bit of luck, I managed to gather his close friends that live in the same neighbourhood and gave him a complete midnight surprise. Underwears and bladder adventures aside, I think it was a great time – all thanks to his sporting friends and how genuine they all are in their friendship. 

It was an early morning of kicking off Darren’s birthday with sincerity, thoughts of light and dark, and a hell lot of drinks. When everyone had left for home, we spent the day together with some plans that were made prior to the surprise. 

And I guess I would just like to keep these memories in words, for I have taken something away from these small but significant moments. 

Every laugh of his, and that sheepish grin, will always be worth it. I might be young, inexperienced and forever incapable of knowing everything under the sun. But I pride myself in knowing how to make him happy, and to keep trying to do so. 

Perhaps I have spent too much time worrying that our differences will eventually tear us apart. Maybe I invested too much energy in finding reflections of our imperfect parents in us, that I lost it. 

I have a great memory, but I guess I forgot that my love – our love – may not always be the answer. However, it can always be the reason why I choose to come home to you. 

And that your happiness, your aspirations and your being will always bring me back to why I chose to love. 

Why I choose to love. 

Happy birthday, love. 

Thank you for letting me love you. It’s been rough for us both. No use getting all rose-tinted and sugarcoated, because they were how they were. Nothing is ever all happiness and gratitude, but I am always glad that we try to make the best out of everything. 

Together. x 

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