Ikaw Pa Rin Ba Hanggang Sa Ating Pagtanda?

Nitong nakaraang Sabado, i watched Ben Platt's concert over Netflix. Not to mention the soulful music, I was really impressed by one of the songs, by its lyrics and content - Grow as We Go.

It relates beautifully about love and relationships needing space and growing.

Do you really need to break-up or cool-off with someone you love because you needed space...? Or when you feel like you needed to grow on your own, is it needed for you to leave your SO?

My thoughts about these circumstances when it tries to rock the boat in your relationship is the common alibi of those mentioned above, in retrospect, the actual reason isn't about growing or needing space - it's about falling out of love with that person.

Siguro mali ako on my observations, pero ang pag-ibig ay nagbabago, hindi siya consistent pero kung matututo ang dalawang tao upang alagaan at gawing matamis ang pagsasamahan sa gitna ng mga bumabangong pagsubok sa relasyon, siguro isa iyon sa mga susi upang magtagumpay na steady at maging matatag ang isang pagsasama.

"I don't think you have to leave 

if to change is what you need

You can change right next to me

when you're high i'll take the lows

You can ebb and i can flow

and we'll take it slow

and grow as we go"

And those lines stayed with me longer than the song itself. Not because it was poetic—though it was—but because it felt uncomfortably honest.

The idea that growth requires distance is so deeply ingrained in modern thinking. We are told to “find ourselves,” to “heal alone,” to “become whole before loving.” As if love is something that interrupts growth instead of accompanying it. As if two people cannot evolve without first dismantling what they have built.

But what if growth doesn’t demand absence?

What if the truer test of love is not the ability to leave, but the willingness to stay while changing?

Most people don’t leave because they need space. They leave because staying requires effort, vulnerability, and the risk of being seen in the middle of becoming. It is easier to rebrand the ending as “self-discovery” than to admit emotional fatigue. Easier to say “I need to grow” than “I am afraid I no longer know how to love you the way you deserve.”

Growth is uncomfortable. It exposes parts of us that are unfinished, insecure, uncertain. To grow beside someone means allowing them to witness those transformations in real time. It means being loved while messy. It means not disappearing when things feel unclear.

And perhaps that is what the song was really saying: that love is not about preserving who we are, but about choosing to remain present while we become someone else.

We tend to imagine growth as a solitary act—like a pilgrimage inward. But in reality, the most meaningful changes often happen in relation. Through conflict. Through compromise. Through learning how to carry another person’s evolving needs alongside our own.

To grow as we go is not romantic in the cinematic sense. It is practical. It is slow. It is choosing to walk instead of escape. It is saying: I don’t know who I’ll be in five years, but I’m willing to find out with you still here.

And maybe that is the quiet courage the song was offering—not the bravery to leave, but the bravery to stay. Not the drama of endings, but the discipline of continuance.

To love someone not despite change, but through it.

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