LETTER TO MY FUTURE HUSBAND

To The One Who Will Forever Hold My Heart,

Number 12 wasn't you either.

It was so easy to fall in love with him, you know. Everything seemed right. He, whose calloused fingertips caressed my cheeks carefully, whose sweet words cuddled me into slumber, whose hazel eyes shone whenever they fell upon me, whose mouth whispered stories of us into my skin, whose presence felt like the world to me, was perfect. He was simply perfect for me.

But, he wasn't you.

I've been dreaming of you ever since I was a little girl. I've always seen you as someone ideal for me: you'll be the one sharing my fondness for biscuits and milk. Childish musings became my only hope as I progressed into puberty and saw the flaws in every single cell in my body. Somehow, you became the only redemption of this broken body. You would love me despite of my irregularities and imperfection. You would worship me every chance you get.

You were also the reason why I continued on hoping for my happy ending. I believed numbers 1 through 5 never saw the real me. I believed that was the reason we never worked. I kept on hoping you were the next figure, but I guess they were all the same. They weren't you. You would see me for me. You would accept that. You would love me for me.

But, number 12 wasn't like them. He wasn't you, for sure, but he was close. He became close. I could just imagine how jealous you'd be of him if you ever met me at this time (I hope). He did all of the things I expected you to do, and for once, I thought that perhaps he was you. I'd settle for him.

I know, I know. You're probably wondering why I let go of him. I've told you why already.

He wasn't you.

It's because of you that I came to the conclusion that, maybe, it wasn't much of numbers 1 through 11's fault that it never worked. Our ruin might have been because of my doing all along. I've always sworn to myself that I'd be the best of myself when fall in love with you. I realized that, if I came to deductions such as these while being with number 12, it meant you weren't him.

You see, I was selfish. I always thought that I wasn't wrong. I've let my pride console me for every failed relationship I've had, thinking I wasn't the problem. Turns out, I was. You'd know this, as you'd accepted the whole of me, even my flaws. It's my pride and laziness. I haven't done enough effort to keep my numbers. I've always held on to you, a blind hope to ignore my own mistakes.

Most of all, I guess I realized that I didn't love myself enough yet to love another fully, like how I'd love you when I finally get to know you.

I could never do this to number 12. He deserved more than just a half of the girl he loves. He deserved someone who could give him everything, just as he'd do the same for that person.

He was perfect. But, you would be beyond perfect. You would be the "most perfect" to me (and you'll convince me to make up words just to describe you). And, someday, I'm going to deserve you just as you deserve me. You’ll love me because I am me, but before that happens, I need to love myself first. Before you see the universe in me, I need to be able to see that in me first.

Until then, I'm going to work on myself and be the best that I can be first.

Wait for me, my love. I’ll see you soon.



Written by Erris Tan
Photographs taken by Tin Nepomuceno

Writer twitter: @theerristocrat

          Erris Taninstagram: @theerristocrat

Aristocratic Amnesiac with no money here
Princess of the Stars elsewhere

Artist // Writer twitter: @christinedianen

          Tin Nepomuceno instagram: @christinedianen

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