Thursday, July 30, 2009

I love you, goodbye

Once again I’ve been duped by my very own self. The judgment day has come and yes, I was hurt so badly by being the last one to know. I cried a dozen rivers last night and by now, my boss would think some unholy insect stung my eyes. I thought that this day would come in the middle month of 2010. I was caught off guard and can’t think of anything to do but shed buckets of tears. Yes, the same thing happened again.

“Prolonging the agony”


Those words tore my heart. Such a cliché but still, he did—like most men do. I tried to ask why, and the answer was [verbatim]: I guess the feelings I had before was no longer there… I knew right then and there that I was going to cry the night out. He is good, but I will never be good enough for him.

Apparently, it was just me who has this suffering. And yet again, I am damaged beyond repair. And like the whole love story movie, I ended up cursing him and myself. The sad part was, I didn’t get the chance to prepare. I knew a lot of people who wanted to give signs when severing ties is near, but me? Nah.

But I just remembered that there was no “us”. Why in the hell would he notify me? The stupid part of me had my consciousness. I knew even before the game started that there will be no strings attached; that there are no guarantees and that any second, things will shatter into fragmented parts. But still, the dim-witted me gave in, trying to convince myself that it was really a game after all. Then I fell in love. I don’t want to accept it but I will now.

The pain was so hard to describe. It feels like you’ll be dead in about a minute or two. The very word ‘goodbye’ causes uneven breath. And when you started to feel okay, another memory just pops in causing you to cry harder the next minute or so. You would think that there will never be the same you again. But trust me, things are just passing, including men.

Now I’m back to base one, no ball in my hand, just dusts from him. I am wounded, and yes it will heal, but the scars will always be there—reminders of the ugly and bitter journey. Now, the long road back to home is what I must think.

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