stoopid


If I actually say it. If I actually write it. It means its done. That shouldn’t be such a bad thing, because its done anyway. If I’ve started coming to the conclusion that some things are better left unknown, and unsaid. But they are known, and those words have been said.

So why is part of my heart still fighting for you?

a beautiful sunset

No one asked to end it as it did. I wish I could say it’s a pretty ending but that means lying to myself which goes into saying I’m hurting myself even more.

He says my posted acknowledgment of the people who care about me hurts him.  He doesn’t get the fact that even these people know that their efforts will seem insignificant with just his i-love-you.

He says he is tired seeing me heartbroken. He doesn’t know I’m getting tired of it myself. Repeating a routine I wish I shouldn’t have started. I can not even teach myself to be un-broken, to un-love.

He isn’t my first heartbreak. But he is the first relationship I have allowed myself to be lost, to give it all in, to take in as much as I can, give more than I could.

He can be one of the few men who came and went. I watched them go and I moved on. But he’s made sure he is too hard to move away from. I took a few steps away myself but sometimes, I turn my head a little and see him stop and do the same thing as I was. He crosses a few distance and I knew I would always take him back even with the knowledge that it wouldn’t turn out right.

He was the one chance I risked having all my chips down. He was beautiful. He was worth fighting for. Even with myself.  And in that battle, I died. This was what he last asked of me. And even to that, I surrendered.

I never asked for it to be over. But then again, I never asked for it to begin. That’s the way it is with life; some of the most beautiful days come completely by chance, but even the most beautiful days have their sunsets.

sober

i’m drunk. can you come and get me?..

It took several bottles of liquor to give in. To even ask that of him.  A few more and it was an absolute surrender. I even surprised myself on how much audacity it took to send that first message, to even admit he still is a much part of me.

And the replies somehow kissed more the sadness that I was already feeling. It was some sort of vindication that urge to drink more than I can handle. A rebellious effort to release him from my thoughts; to at least pretend that I am able to forget him.

Although I anticipated the answers, it didn’t make the pain hurt any less. It’s just sometimes, no matter how often we deny it or how often we accept it, we expect more from others because we’d be willing to do that much for them.

It wasn’t about how I was getting home, it was entirely about who I wanted to take me home. Drunk that I was. Just to see if he cared enough. Because I still cared enough even when others cared enough about me. He was the one that mattered.

be hurt, be healed

Healing doesn’t necessarily mean being able to forget. Nor does being forgotten the alternative of unloving. Love still stays. Healing is just finding the reasons to remember the happiness so that we can move on with our lives after our heartbreak. We can never heal if we forget all the emotions just as we can never love again if we don’t know the emotion.

If time plays a vital part for our love to outgrow the hurt, then let it be your friend, your ally. You should never force it to move forward with the bitterness you hold. Chances are you become stale and impotent to find the one thing you’ve prepared for most of your life. You should never allow time to become the dominant factor of your life, an ultimatum that imprisons you to other possibilities. Time moves because you allow it to move with you, to be your friend, to be the one thing that tells you that life waits for you, and challenges you to show the world what you are made of.

Allow yourself to be angry, to be sad. You can never pretend to be happy when you are in a situation where your heart silently endures an unspoken hurt. You just could never be happy. You aren’t made of stone after all. You are of flesh and blood, body and soul. You have a heart that never limits its capacity for love to grow or for hurt to be introduced. It is the one vital part of us that endures life in spite of its complexities. Thus, you are your life. You are embraced by life.

The heartbreak is done. You can never bring the past forward or ask for a chance to unbreak it. What lays ahead are new experiences that will replace the hurt, reintroduce love. Yes, the memories of the sorrow lingers but still when you look back, pick the broken pieces, you can never really put them back.

A rose has its thorns because it is afraid of the unknown, of the risks; because beauty is never without fear, without meaning to take risks, and it can never be satisfactory. You, on the other hand, took a risk, became consumed by the promises of beauty, rejoiced in the newness of freedom, got hurt, but was ultimately reborn to a life that is woven with a new pattern to make such a fine tapestry, unlike anything else that came beforehand.

too incurable

So how is it that you still have the callousness to announce your presence again? Invading my solitude with your useless messages?

Stop adding to the sorrow. I am as restless as it is. Waiting for a new beginning. Repairing what has been left – of what you carelessly left behind. You’ve taken all what I was. Your choice to leave me required me to contemplate on what littlest is left of my faith.

I hope it was simple to choose to move on. To delete you from memory. Deciding between what you deemed past and my present seems a long, tiresome process. And right now, I’m so lazy to even begin it. Because you made me hope. You made believe in happy ever after. Denying me to let go.

Just stop whispering you missed me. Stop declaring you were thinking about me every time you were with her. Stop making an excuse out of the pretense you were protecting me. Because in reality, you were only protecting yourself by hiding me – that dark secret. However you refute these pleas, I realized they were empty words. I often overlook the  fact that you had a great way with words and I was the blind mouse who went with whatever was fed to me, making me believe in a positive outcome. I don’t know if you were ever real anymore. Because right now, doubt is a more tangible belief I need to hold on to in order for me to heal.

I hated the dark.  And you knew it. To be kept in it for this long has made me resent myself even more. And you were oblivious, forcing me to accept it even if it was killing me. You succeeded by playing god to my existence.

I refuse to play a part in your confusion. Take your misery and place it on someone else’s. You have broken me into a million pieces. There’s nothing left to break anymore but you still insist  to worsen the condition, not stopping til I am left in ruins. I think I should anticipate more. Because you’re heartless, inhuman selfish individual.

If those words aren’t loud enough to clear your head, just look at the choices you have on your hand. Obviously, I am not a part of them. Take them. Shove them in til it makes you bloated with arrogance.

I have every reason to be angry and wish you all the worst. I am entitled to such liberties.

Until I can be healed, I can’t wish you the happiness.

Right now, it’s just you and your miserable part in my life that I wish to be rid of. And when I finally forget you, don’t dare remember me.

the heart when it breaks

When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground, it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters, a table leg breaks, or when a picture falls off the wall, it makes a noise. But as for your heart, when that breaks, it’s completely silent. You would think as it’s so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world, or even have some sort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a symbol or the ringing of a bell. But it’s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain.

Cecelia Ahern

You know the worst thing about heartbreak…

is not the feeling like your heart is actually breaking. Not the resulting numbness and complete void of all other feelings but hurt and sadness. But that it leaves you feeling hopeless. I truly feel hopeless about finding someone who won’t end up making me feel this way. Without hope that the days will ever be as exciting without you in them. Hopeless, in the fact, that I could truly be so wrong about someone.

I know time will pass and things will change. I know that I won’t always feel like this. But for now…