Waiting for You on This Side of the World

Would things be better for us if we were different genders? I've never liked people bluntly saying the word "homosexuality." Those three syllables always feel like a thousand-pound weight pressing down on me until I can hardly breathe. I don't think there's anything shameful or wrong about being with you. On the contrary, I'm grateful that we've been together from the age of sixteen to twenty-four, that we've witnessed each other's growth and had each other's companionship. I'm grateful we met. But I still don't like those three words, even though the person I love is the same sex as me. They seem like a label for people to gossip about and make fun of. If you say I'm avoiding it, I won't deny it.

I've always thought of myself as someone who's strong on the outside but weak inside, timid and cowardly. Being with you for so long is the boldest, scariest decision I've ever made, and the one I regret the least.

You are my happiness, but you're also my abyss.

I often wonder if I would choose not to meet you if I could turn back time. Maybe. But there's no such thing as turning back time.

I want to leave you, but I know it would be hard for me to accept someone else now. How could anyone treat me better than you do? How could anyone love me more than they love themselves? The more I think about leaving, the less I can bear to go. I'm so weak and useless, so hesitant and indecisive. I say I love myself more, yet I can't bear to hurt you.

When I think about our love, it isn't glamorous or dramatic. It's just calm and ordinary. I've heard that love should be simple and natural, all about everyday necessities. Perhaps that's what we are. Pure and simple.

It's nice.

But in the end, I've decided to leave you.

Xu Mu