The truth about love.
It gets harder to decipher every time you’re snapped and caught on its trap. Love is the cunning spider!
Love is schemingly wise and terribly hostile to everyone without even anyone noticing it. It is like the spider who knows what to say and how to say the words our ears are so eager to hear. Then one by one like the innocent fly we get to be invited and lured into his parlor but we can never return again.
I wanted to be the wiser fly. I’ve always been the wiser fly. Yet wisdom never saved me from getting lured into its parlor. Love promised me bliss and infinite faith on romance. Who could say no to that? Love began to lure me by saying those words I’ve never heard but my heart yearned to hear. He told me I am beautiful beyond comparison, I have eyes that sparkle when smitten with hope, promises of love and I have wings that flutter music like a lullaby and symphony beyond what men can create. I was told I deserve to be in his parlor with everything in it that sparkles. The parlor is up high in winding stairs to keep anyone not welcome. I am welcome.
In the parlor, he said, there is a huge mirror, a mirror that could actually confirm his words if doubt holds so tightly my heart. I began to imagine and began to believe. He kept talking until his words sounded like music to my ears, a symphony that serenaded my heart and a song that began to fill my life but it got me blinded. I didn’t realize I was flying myself inside with my heart swaying with his song. When I opened my eyes, I was already inside his parlor. He wasn’t there but I was trapped. His parlor was perfect like gold but empty. It sparkles but it was blinding. I knew I was in trouble. My instincts told me I needed to get out. I was trapped inside and helpless with his song is still humming inside my head now trying to hypnotize me. I begged wisdom for help because he was right, Wisdom told me not to believe it. Yet, when I was in there wisdom can’t even do anything at all.
How I got out and saved myself is a mystery but that is the truth about love.
I wish i could talk to my 15-year old self and tell her not to grow up so fast.
I’ve changed a lot this year than what I’ve had in the past 10 years.
Intricately, it has been a downward spiral change wherein I couldn’t even recognize myself at times. I had too much dose fun and less thought on responsibility. I have been too responsible all my life, my free-spirited ego tricked me to try it. It landed into one hell of a disaster but a beautiful disaster if that even brings some justice to it.
I’ve grown stronger and wilder. The latter is quite an exaggeration but is quite ample for my deeds of mischief. Maybe, all i wanted was to fulfill things i never thought I could do. Be somebody I’ve always wondered who.
To cut the drama short, I have finally fulfilled one of my seemingly naive bucket list. Finally, after 25 years, I have intoxicated myself with tequila further than the limit. I passed out, danced my heart out, promised my guy bestfriend that i’ll break-up with my boyfriends (yeah, if he remembered it right, i actually said it in plural form) and promised not to ever again have one IF he’ll break up with his girlfriend (which is non-existent), quarreled my present-past pseudo-bf (i actually think after that we decided to be just friends, I THINK) and just had everything around me pass by like a breeze. I’m done with nanny-ing booze-filled drunk pals. It was my time to be irresponsible. But thank God i had friends who did the same things that I’ve been doing over and over again.
I couldn’t remember half of it but at least they’ve finally met the drunk-to-the-core me. I hope pseudo-bf would forgive my drunken words. We’re friends now. I guess I must have done something that I can’t do sober.
The 24th of february. It is my own version of charter change. From now on, I must get back on track and be a little careful but more responsible.
Next on my bucket list, face my fear of SNAKES. Ohhh no.
—The weak customer chooses the understandable rack.—
….I’m starting to have that strange feeling wherein I’m feeling everything that everybody has been feeling for me. It all starts to make sense why incessantly everyone has been trying to dry those tears that are really not there. I am trying to put up a good fight, not with anyone else but actually with just myself. I refuse to let anyone see me weak. I refuse to admit that someone can make me weak.
I had fun seeing everyone cry and getting drunk while telling me how much they love me and how much they feel what I’ve been feeling, what I’ve been concealing. I stood sober, strong and happy in the midst of the fun but I couldn’t put myself together seeing all of it from them. That’s just something I can never do. I just laugh out the pain and pretend nothing this great has hit me, has broken my heart and has left me unsure of what to do. I’m too liberated for tears and too hurt to even say I’m not ok. BUT I WILL BE OK.
I miss him. Much worse, I miss myself being around him. I can make up words that’s too cliche and just laugh my heart out. I miss his smile and how he puts a smile on me effortlessly. I miss waiting for him to miss me. I miss him. I MISS HIM. I miss US. It’s starting to fade away but in a good way. Silently, I need to let go.
I did say I’ll be fine the day after tomorrow, right? Well, it’s still tomorrow. The day after it will come soon. Probably later than I ever thought it would. That’s the difference between letting go of someone and letting go of someone you just really love so much. In this depth of emotion, I yielded to what I used to despise. But no, I couldn’t feel a tinge of regret. I did what I had to do. I just allowed myself to love not really expecting much love in return.
I finally proved to myself that I can stay and give all in. Just like in poker, I lose every time I do. Yet, Buy-ins are just brilliant. Redemption for the loss, try-agains are limitless.
I am hungry. Half-past 2 in the morning. Unfinished notes and readings. No tears about to fall despite getting too sentimental. I guess I’m not ready to pour it out yet. I want to cry hard enough to finally let it go. Maybe not now, the day after tomorrow perhaps? He would be worth the tears because it has been 5 days and my eyes are still dry. This is gonna be epic. I need those tears and get “moving-on” started.
NOTE TO SELF:
one cup of brewed coffee a day. At 2 cups, my heart begins to pump real fast. My heart might want to get suicidal with the work it’s been put in. It’s still broken so it might not function well. ONE CUP.
I have always asked for a big bang, for something consistent, something different and for something that I’m finally gonna keep.. It’s within my reach now. Too early to tell but too happy to snap back. Too scared to think forward but too contented to look back.
I am as unpredictable as the weather. I am as inconsistent as change. I am so confusing like calculus. And most of all, I am so scared as courage, the cowardly dog. I have no right to presume that things would often go the way I love to imagine it when I can’t even hold on to something longer than a second. Being idle bores me. I move around too much. Even rollercoasters bore me now. I need something more. I need THIS to never stop.
This, the feeling of just laughing my heart out; the feeling of blissful oblivion; the feeling of being in a new adventure; the feeling of a warmer flame; the feeling of something I became numb about.. Just this.. i love feeling this. For how long? I don’t know.. I usually runaway from this. For how long? it’s indefinite. Maybe soon, maybe later, maybe…
I used to hate this feeling. I usually run away from this. I never really opened myself for possibilities.. I just didn’t want to. I was just too numb to care.
Something tells me, there is always an exception. That there would always be someone to prove me wrong. There would always come a time wherein I never would have wanted anything else. There would always be someone that no one else could compare.
There was once a player who met another player.. Both tried to play the game fair and right but the other yielded and waved the flag. The other kept the fight alone.
Now, it’s an assassin meeting another assassin.. Whose heart would get stolen? Whose gonna survive? Would both want to leave the assassin life? Would both want to leave the past behind?
It’s too mushy. I am springing back to reality.!
blogging on iphone is painstakingly weird.