And now, these three remain –

faith, hope, and love.

Allow me to throw modesty aside – I’m pretty sure I’ve been faithful, in at least two senses of the word. Whenever I’m tempted to go chase another, I’d defer because I’m not done (yet) with you. No resolutions (yet). And I’ve been hopeful to the point of hopelessness and desperation – thriving on the logic which borders on inanity. Where other people fear to tread, I’ve stepped on repeatedly.

I’m not so sure about the third.

Really, maybe I’ve not been so good in the eyes of God. It’s the only justification I can put up consciously as to why I’ve been waiting for you to speak, enlighten me, as I stubbornly pursue the slightest ray of light, like how a horse thrown in a river struggles to swim in the hope of living for another day.

Let me make this clear. I’m not angry at you. I cannot be, no matter how hard I try. I’m just a little upset, knowing that you’ve seen me struggle over waiting. But for whatever reason you have up your sleeve, I will understand. With a smile, and with what little love I can give to you. (For the same reason as to why I’m upset, I still am hoping.)

For my stubborn nature, I apologize.

But you know, all too well – the third is infinitely more stubborn than I am.

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