My Anniversary Love Letter: My certain and constant

I want to begin by honoring us—for the year we survived, for everything we went through, and for still choosing each other even when it was not easy.

Long distance was never simple. There were days when it felt heavier than love should be. But somehow, you made it easier for me to show up. You made effort visible. You made love feel real—even in absence. For that, I am grateful. I see you. I notice everything. And I don’t take this year for granted.

We had our share of arguments—more than I ever imagined we would. There were moments when even we didn’t fully understand what we were fighting for. At times, it felt like conflict came more often than peace. And somehow, even misunderstandings became part of our rhythm, a strange kind of bonding.

But even in all of that, love never left. It stayed—quiet, stubborn, steady. It never truly drifted away from us.

Our story is not perfect, but it is real. Organic. It didn’t follow a script or plan. It began in something simple—November 2024, that unexpected team building moment, those five seconds when our eyes met and something quietly shifted. It may not have made sense then, but it does now.

And when we met again in March 2025 during the audit, everything came smoothly. You told me what you felt—that I was that person, and that even time seemed to pause in those moments. From there, everything else followed.

I know I haven’t always been easy to understand. Most of the time, it has been you who says sorry first, who softens first, who tries first. And I know my pride has been difficult to deal with. I struggle with words like “sorry,” not because I don’t feel it, but because I often express it differently—through actions, adjustments, and trying to correct what I did without always saying it out loud.

But I want you to know this clearly: I am giving my best for you and for us.

I am trying to make you feel loved in the way I know how. To make you feel secure. To make things easier for you, even when I fail to express it properly. You know my silence, my nonchalant ways, my smirks when I don’t know how to put my feelings into words. And I know there were times you felt frustrated or hurt because I didn’t meet your expectations the way you needed.

But please understand—I am not distant because I don’t care. I am just not always good at showing what is already too deep inside me.

There are battles I carry quietly. Things I make look lighter than they are. For most of my life, I learned to fight them alone. But when you came, that changed.

Because the truth is—I needed you more than I knew how to say.

Your presence makes things lighter. Your hugs calm parts of me I don’t even talk about. With you, I don’t feel like I always have to be strong. I am sorry if there were moments you felt like you were a burden—you are not. If I ever made you feel that way, I'm sorry, it was never your weight to carry, but my lack of expression.

You are my certain and constant. 

You are my peace when everything feels loud. You are my comfort when I feel overwhelmed. You are the laughter I didn’t realize I was missing. You are everything I thought I didn’t need—but truly do.

Those smiles I get to see from you are comforting in ways I can’t fully explain. Holding your hand while walking gives me quiet security, like I am not lost in the world. Those simple kisses when we arrive or leave make heavy things disappear for a moment, as if arguments never existed. Your clinginess makes me feel more loved and secure in ways I don’t always know how to say. And those hugs while sleeping—they give me a peace I didn’t know I was searching for. Even the moments when you just look at me and smile… everything feels easier. I feel like I can face the world, not alone, but with someone who will stay with me even at my worst.

For everything you think I didn’t notice—but I did. I notice everything. I just don’t always know how to say it the way you deserve to hear it.

When I see you smile, when I hear your jokes, even in your simplest actions—it brings out a version of me I wish I could show more often.

Thank you, babs.

Even if I don’t say it all the time, even if I fail to express it properly, please know that my love has always been here. It does not disappear in arguments. It does not weaken in silence. If anything, it stays—and grows in the in-between moments, when we try again, when we choose each other again.

I remember our first meeting in Davao. The way you looked at me felt sincere in a way I can’t explain. There was something honest in that moment—something rare. And maybe that’s why I never truly let go of it.

I see a person in you I don’t just want for this moment or this season, but someone I want to keep choosing for as long as life allows—someone I want to stay with through every version of life we become.

I see that in you. Deep and real.

All I want is for us to continue loving each other in the way we can—imperfectly, but sincerely. To love each other while we still have the time, because life is never guaranteed, and I want you to know I have given you parts of me that not everyone gets to see. You have seen the side of me I don’t show anyone else.

You are important to me. I don’t want to lose you. I need you more than I always know how to say—in every way, in every moment, in every version of my life.

You are a part of who I am becoming.

And even if I am not always the person you expect me to be, even if I disappoint or frustrate you at times—please remember this:

My love for you has never changed. Not once.

It has only stayed. And somehow, it has grown.

Happy first year, babs.