Love is not a fight.

http://www.fireproofthemovie.com/

My eyes are filming with tears again. This is about the 7th or 8th time I've watched Fireproof, and I don't see myself ever getting tired of it. Neither will my mother. I especially like Warren Barfield's "Love Is Not A Fight" featured in the movie's soundtrack, which was played in the last scene of the movie.

Love is not a place

To come and go as we please

It's a house we answer in

Then commit to never leave

So lock the door behind you

Throw away the key

We'll work it out together

Let it bring us to our knees

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door

No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

To some, love is a word

That they can fall into

But when they're falling out

Keeping that word is hard to do

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door

No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

Love will come to save us

If we'll only call

He will ask nothing from us

But demand we give our all

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door

No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

I will fight for you

Would you fight for me?

It's worth fighting for

Truly, millions have witnessed the story of Caleb and Catherine and have been inspired by the way God saved their marriage. If we just realize our own weaknesses and let God work in our life, then He can change our hearts. Now, for those few who haven't seen it, it's not actually JUST an inspirational movie--the inspirational movie--it's actually peppered with a few jokes here and there. So don't dismiss this as just another tearjerker. You'll be overwhelmed by the positive feedback by everyone from all over the world who have seen the movie. My mother actually purchased two original copies--one for the house and one to send to my dad working abroad.

People have praised it as The #1 Inspirational Film. There are actually cars in Brazil and Spain that are advertising the movie. And you can also check out http://fireproofmymarriage.com/ to see people's stories of how Fireproof saved their marriage.

So I hope you guys watch this--because if you haven't, then you are totally missing out.

You.

Last Friday we were less than pleased when we found out our school’s volleyball varsity tryouts were to take place RIGHT AFTER PE class. And you can only imagine the buckets of sweat (and party pounds) we shed, what with all the hummus. All the way I went, pushing myself to do one last pushup or jog another grueling round. My brain was practically divided into several mindsets, and each was telling me to do a completely different thing from the other. At least now, working out would be an obligation, not something I have to drag myself out of bed at 5 AM for.

By some miracle, I still had leftover energy (which made me quite disappointed—that only means I didn’t give my all at the tryouts), so I decided to exhaust myself further by shooting some hoops. Free throws at the open court behind our school. Most of us had already gone home, so the only ones still there were two of my girl classmates, (cue Jaws theme song) my trying-to-avoid-you-but-it-hurts-inside ex and his best friend.

Missed another shot. And it was totally out of range. I was about to give up on the free throws when all of a sudden, my ex walks toward the now-empty court, stands right in front of me and says, “Try that again.”

I didn’t know if I was supposed to be relieved or disappointed, but I do what he tells me to do, and miss once again. He smiles the smile that only I seem to appreciate—imperfect and close to plasmatic but still weirdly cute. That made me lose even more concentration, the concentration I had been gathering from every pore of my body but couldn’t seem to utilize. Only he had the power to disarm me like that.


It made me realize how much I missed him, missed us. I was completely powerless to say anything against what was happening. After months of trying to forget, trying to accept, even forcing myself to love someone else—this was something I didn’t seem to have any control over. I couldn’t quite call it delving into the unknown—I’ve come to know him the way he’s come to know me. Nothing can change that.

After a zillion more missed shots, he grabs the ball and gives me a mock impatient look. “Okay, my turn,” he says, the ball firmly in his hand, and assumes his position. And voila…he misses. I must have rubbed off on him. “Nice one,” I say, and he abruptly shifts his body so he’s facing me.

“I told you…you’re my weakness.”

And then I remember the group text he had sent the night before.


The diamond, though the world’s strongest substance, with a dent or crack will still break.

So even the mightiest, the strong…always has a weakness.

And you’re my weakness.

I feel the blood rushing to my face. Oh, the agony. Trying to conceal it, I make a pathetic crack.

“And who says you’re a diamond?”

I break into a smile after hearing myself say that, and he, in turn, breaks…the awkwardness by suggesting we move to the other court.


“If I make this shot, I’m deleting my Facebook…” I remember saying.

“Go.”

And I made the shot. So my Facebook’s still up and running. We made it a little game of sorts—there was a consequence to every missed shot. All the while he smiled that imperfect smile, and it made me look at myself from his point of view.

He looked at me like I was perfect—like I wasn’t messed up, my face shiny with sweat and the wind whipping my hair in different directions. He smiled the way he did when I hugged him for giving me roses on Valentine’s Day. And we talked to each other like we had never argued at all.

Out of the blue, he asks a serious question.

“Do you love him?”

“Him” is the guy that I have been linked to (read: against my free will) these past few days. “Him” is the guy that he hangs out with like there’s nothing wrong. “Him” is the guy I will never seem to look at as more than a friend.

Gripping the basketball tighter in my hand, I say it firmly.

“No.”

I make a shot. It seems as if the ball hangs in the air for a second, then allows itself to make its way to the rim, bounce on it twice, then reach the ground. Two clanging sounds echo in contrast to the silence.

“And I never will.”

He turns around and picks the ball up from the ground.

“If I make this shot…If I make this shot…”

“What?” I ask, so very accustomed to his katorpehan.

“If I make this shot, I’m ready.”

And he made it.

Emptiness.

Emptiness can never be fully understood until it saunters over and catches you by surprise. I am staring at a blank page, an unwritten chapter that refuses to be forgotten. After a time, the blankness will be replaced; words will spill out and the tragedy will be known to all who read it.

And yet words will never be enough to mask desperation. For beneath these very words, hidden emotions come to life and memories of you cry out to be relived. You have found a place in me and have given me more than I will ever deserve.

My heart beats, but it gives life to nothing—I am lifeless—I feel lifeless. My body moves, but its actions are uncertain; it is forced to conceal its fragility. It is vulnerable, blown away by the wind. My mind is burdened with endless reveries of what used to be. It is not an easy task to simply erase you from who I have come to be. I break down at the mere thought of you. How easy is it for you to walk in and out of my life without bothering to take a second look?

I am making my best efforts to release you, to accept that I have to step aside and hold back my tears as I watch you shine. To escape from the familiar warmth of your arms; the gentle assurance of your voice. It was your love that kept me together. You completed me. Now I have to be complete on my own.

cracking up.

It was last Wednesday. I did a little experiment--I began to contemplate on all the negative in my life. Broken relationships, regrets, fluctuating grades. Life was already serious to begin with, and I'd just made things worse.

The storm cloud heaved itself over me for the whole day. Everyone else trekked through the day pretty normally. I proceeded with caution. I was on my way to long-term depression. All the things that used to make my day break it, and suddenly everything seemed corny and scripted. The pessimist in me broke out. And it was infecting everyone within a five-seat radius.

I purposedly drained the fun out of my own life. Why I did that, I'm still trying to figure out. Maybe it was because my life was starting to get a little too close to perfect. I couldn't accept the fact that for once in my life, things were going my way. Smooth sailing. I tipped my own boat to get a little more reality. Reality was bigger than what I was prepared for.

After class, I literally jumped into the school bus, wanting the sadness to end. When I get home, this'll all be over, I assured myself. A good book will calm me down.

The school bus was a jungle. Piercing (oh, yes, piercing) screams emanated from every corner possible. Crumpled pieces of paper were thrown at every direction, and someone was dancing to George Michael's "Careless Whisper". I wanted to detach myself from that world and hole up in my own thoughts. Cue headphones.

I had my music set on full blast, so I wouldn't hear everyone rehashing. I had enough of the day. I didn't want to hear more about it. Savoring--or rather, dreading--every line of the rock anthem I was listening to. And realizing that every word screamed out the complete pandemonium that was my life.

Feeling sorry for myself seemed like an easy task. I was sinking deeper into my reverie when I heard boisterous laughter that could not be ignored. Looking up, deeper dimples, squinting eyes and red faces greeted me. They were cracking up to an inside joke I would never know about.

Maybe it was better that way. I break glass when I laugh. I really get into it. And that's why I hate it when someone tells me a joke and everyone else gets it but me. Or when everyone else is laughing and I'm the odd one out.

That's when it hit me. Everything I'd been contemplating about had been said and done, and there was no use in dwelling on it. My past--everyone's past is like a shattered bottle. Nothing I do can put the pieces back together the way it was.

So I took off my headphones, smiled and asked the person beside me.

"What was the joke again?"