It feels like eating Serendipity 3’s $1,000, edible gold-covered ice cream sundae in the hottest day of New York summer. Every single particle of that ice cream is exploding as it touches your tongue: an indescribable masterpiece is being created inside your mouth as you take each bite. The cold freshness of it is exactly what you need in the sweltering heat. You finally understood the meaning of a perfect match. But as its frozen nature cools down your increasing body temperature, you cannot escape the fact that it is melting at every touch. You force yourself to enjoy it as fast as possible before it becomes an inedible goop of wasted money, but you realize that enjoyment is an old man that cannot catch up when you move at such speed.
It feels like reading your favorite book for the first time. You devour each page with such intense emotions, filling its contents into every inch of your being. It is all you think about: the characters, the plot, the style in which it is written. The ambiguity present in the story both confuses and amazes you: how can two opposite meanings find home in the same word? But as your eyes travel from sentence to sentence, as your finger slip pass each page, as your hand caresses its sturdy binding, you find yourself closer and closer to the end. You know it is coming, but you never really know when it will happen: you will never read this book the same way again. Anticipation increase day by day as you forge towards the last page, and as much as you try to digest the story one page at a time, you become obsessed with imagining what the finale will look like.
It feels like every time I see you, I am filled with both great happiness and great sorrow. Your kind eyes, the contours of your face, the way your skin feels, that characteristic scent of yours. Everything that was once so beautiful becomes painful to see, smell, touch. I was in a tiny plank floating in the middle of an ocean so filled with mysteries and wonders of the universe, and now am standing on the side of a road staring at a puddle that was once an ocean at some point of its life. You are melting away, and the harder I try to grasp you, the faster you escape. Trying to enjoy the last bit of days we have together is useless, because all we see now is the end. Each laughter only reminds me of how much I’m losing when I lose you. Every bit of kindness you present to me only brings me fear of not finding someone else like you. Our hands hold tighter and tighter as the world pulls us apart, but it’s no use: we know we’re going to go our separate ways. No matter how many times we lie to ourselves, imagining a grand escape to find a place where we can be together, we’re painfully forced into a reality that does not fit our hearts.
The anticipation is hard. But when it really comes down to the end, we can only sit and wait. Before we swallow the last bite of a melting sundae. Before we turn the last page of our favorite book. Before we kiss our final goodbyes. Engulf that last moment with much passion, and do it.