<bgsound src=''></bgsound>

Saturday, September 20, 2003

Pain is wanting to love after you've lost faith in it.

Why do I even have this compelling need to write about my personal little 9/11 tragedy? I have been avoiding this for more than a week but it just creeps up on me when I least expect it. So why let it torture me in the shadows when I can bring this to the cyberspotlight of my life? Maybe one day I can look back at this and say, hey, I survived THAT heartbreak. And I would haughtily say as I roll up my sleeves, "C'mon fate, bring it on. Hrrummpff! I ain't afraid of no nuthin'."

It's harder now that it's over, now that the cuffs are off... I'm free--free with a history.

So I walked under a bus, I got hit by a train.
Keep falling in love, which is kinda the same.
I've sunk out at sea, crashed my car, gone insane...

~ Buses & Train, Bachelor Girl

I would never want to go into that road again.

But then, you long for it: All the love in the world. You yearn for it to come. You whisper prayers in between breaths for it. But sometimes you are so much in a trance that you can't even tell the difference between true love and infatuation. Therein lies the tragedy.

I now wonder what the hell it was. But, WHATEVER. It's moot and academic. 'No point in getting into a semantic argument over that. (HAH! I learned that from John Cusack. Grosse Pointe Blank. Absolutely kick-ass movie. But I digress...)

But as a friend put it, I never asked for this. I was happily moving along with my shitty lovelife and then he decided to grace it with his appearance. I fed on the traditional idealist romantic in me and I lapped up the happiness he gave me like a thirsty puppy. And then he suddenly walks away and takes away the rose-colored glasses outta my eyes. Kaput. And I went, "huh?! WTF...?!" Nobody messes with me like that. That was probably what hurt me (okay, that was a weird sentence structure but at 12:25 am, I think it is gramatically correct). I was such a Ms. Cool-as-Ice and then I turned into a mushy damsel in his hands. And then he pulls a Houdini on me. Now do you still wonder why I write like this?!

But you know, in a weird way, I'm fine now. I have deleted the stupid hero folder on my phone. I did not even cry when I was tearing up the goddamn pictures. I did it coz it seemed to be the most appropriate, uber-melodramatic thing to do. You know me, I'd like to think that I am in a music video sometimes. I played Ashanti's Foolish, Unfoolish and Over on loop when I was doing that crazy/cheesy thing. I even took digital photos of its various state of destruction. (I thought it would be a good artsy piece for my Adobe Photoshop weekend projects...) Yuck. How O.A. is that? Tee-hee.

It's a tragedy for me to see the dream is over.

I guess that was my way of freeing myself. Of digesting everything that has happened. It was for the best, I suppose ('so cliche!). I felt that this huge thorn had been plucked out of my heart. Coz finally, there was closure. It was not hanging in mid-air anymore. He may have never actually said why the f**k he left but at least, it is now finally over and done with. I even compared it to getting a wax (I have never gotten a wax, but anyway, I am basing this from what I've heard) when I was recounting the "events" to my friend: Quick AND painful.

Having him actually say to me that it's over (albeit, glossed up in a euphemism by following it up with the ever-so-hackneyed can-we-still-be-friends script. Touche, cliche.) makes it easier for me to move on. I can now stop holding on. I can now stop hoping for him to come back. I will get over this and go on with my life. And finally move forward, dammit.

As Brad Turvey says in his Mr. Hunky Shrink voice, "Put it in the fish bowl... all of it... Now drop it... drop the fish bowl." I am now watching my fish bowl shatter into fragments and disappear into the great big cosmos. Hopefully, the goddamn broken fish bowl won't ever haunt me back ever again.

And hopefully, I will live to see a happier day.

Well I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

~ White Flag, Dido