SHOWER SONGS. CHLORINATED CASCADE. CLEANSED. AU NATURALE.

It’s amusing how we are so minute in this vast expanse of light, darkness, space, and who-knows-what-is-out-there, and yet, we are capable of affecting a planet 12,756 kilometers in diameter. There is strength in numbers, as they say, and we are more than seven billion to date. I am not one to question that – we all have seen mankind build and destroy in equally epic proportions since the dawn of time. But what are we here for? What keeps our species going? Do we all have a uniform purpose?

Of all biological creatures in existence, this race, my own, perplexes me because while the great unknown is reserved only for the expiration of these short lives we very much cling to, we are ruthless in the pursuit for the trivial and mundane, blown up for maximum effect.

The Fermi Paradox explains that while we remain hopeful in the comfort of Drake’s Equation, we cannot communicate with intelligent life elsewhere because intelligent life tend to disappear quickly as it would eventually devour itself. Ergo, hypothetically, mankind will destroy itself, so it goes.

It is a theory, yes. But may the deities help those who do not see that we are indeed our own demise. Which brings back the question, what do we make of our existence? Where is it going? What are we now? What does this mean when we were the only ones blessed with the curse of having rational brains, cluttered with irrational emotions, with a relative concept of morality, and therefore be the only animals who can truly be baneful?

Ah, but man’s history is one thread of life, packed with games of chance and of non-sequiturs. Some mysteries will always remain so, all mistakes will be inevitable but are significant and sufficient to give birth to the uncertain future, which we do not hold but are responsible of.

What we only have is the present, who we are, and what we become to each other. I am going to take hold of it and just be. Life begins every second, we as phoenixes, perhaps with a finite number of rebirths. I don’t know, I have more questions than answers, but I’m taking the risk. I will play both Truth and Dare. Maybe there aren’t winners nor losers. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

What matters to me is now. I have always been equally curious and scared of the future. Not of the certainty of the tale of Thanatos, it is only but a cliche and a transition, but for the very thing that makes us survive as a species, because it is now here in me, with me, in my flesh and bones and skin and soul and viscera: the gift of Eros; the thing left in Pandora’s box; the signature of the doves; the language of the sun; faith.

I have you, Dominique Tupas Jorillo.

Perhaps I found you by a kiss of luck, a concept I cannot say I believe in. Perhaps fate has something to do with this, or the gods, for which i can say the same thing. Perhaps it’s only a wave of coincidence and the untouched order of the unfolding of events of all matter.

Perhaps.

But let’s indulge in the rarity of this understatement of a term called love, for with this I’m sure and in this I believe, and you alone will share this arcane knowledge with me.

I will hold your hand and walk through this with you, always, as many lifetimes as it would take, as far as our existence would allow, in and beyond our stream of consciousness or absence thereof.

Let me say this, again and again, until you tire of it, as these words are never enough for me to show you the height and depth of who you are to me:

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, TOO MUCH, EDMAN CHRIS DOMINIQUE TUPAS JORILLO. ♥

Here, in you, me:

Vivien Marie A. Lopez

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