I have recently watched Formula 17, a light romantic-comedy that deals with ideals of love versus the conflicts and hurts of prevalent casually-made relationships, with an ex.

The movie was light but I felt heavy.  It was a funny caricature of how shallow or deep love can be.  It was a fantastic story of how crazy people can get when they search, fall in love, and wear out of it.  Yet, as much as I try to be jolly in every punchline in every scene, I only find myself longing for the long-lasting, sincere relationship that endures hardship, distance, and emotional wear and tear.  I find myself looking at the person beside me, tracing the smile amidst my ex’s dim visage.  I find myself yearning to bring back the sweet old times: Our dinner at the little cozy bistro in the University outskirts, our hunt for bestbuys at hand-me-down stores, our kisses and embraces on long walks.

The movie made us laughed hilariously, but there was an invisible barrier between us. We didn’t even feel close. We sat beside each other, but nevertheless sat with a big gap of space between us.  Sigh.

How I wish my story will have a happy ending.