The Right Time and the Right Place.

There's a time and there's a place for everything. That's what I've always learnt and all my years waiting and trying to control everything that came my way: sometimes you need to let instinct guide you to act when the time is right and when your heart tugs in that very direction. But when your head tries to take over and you think, and you think and you don't realise that some things must be done by instinct. You instinctively know best. And you just need to learn to trust yourself sometimes. 

One Year Later

It has been over a year now. And I am over him. The man I thought I would never fall out of love with, the one whom I thought I would marry and live with for the rest of my life left me one day when I never expected it. It smarted like a morherfucker, but now more than one year later I am over him. 

I don't remember now what made me love him. What made me fall so helplessly in love with him. What made me stay in love. What meant so much to me at the time. Maybe I do know what it was per se, but only as a fact in my mind. My heart is empty of it now. Devoid of all that used to fill it. Riddled full of holes. Sometimes thinking about it, I don't even understand why I felt so in love with him. But then that is just evidence that goes to show how much I have changed. That old me is no more. And with it all remnants of the girl who could have fallen in love with him. The girl who did. 

A heart cannot be filled so full till brimming and then just emptied in one fell swoop. It will deflate. It will collapse in on itself. It will become an empty husk, like the landscape scrubbed clean by harsh winds. When you ask me, do I regret what I did back then? Yes, I regret getting myself into that relationship. I regret doing it, I regret becoming that person that relationship made me become. Because without all of that, maybe I would be a different person. Maybe a happier person, some part of me hopes. 

But whatever happened must have happened for a reason. I must admit that without it, many of the choices I have made would not have been made. He made it happen by being a factor in my life for events to play themselves around. I wouldn't have been this, my bitterness would not have steered me the way it has. Perhaps I would still be so much more naive. Perhaps my heart would have broken anyway. If not there then maybe here possibly due to the extreme naïveté I would have boasted without it. 

Whatever happened perhaps happened for a reason. I am this now. I am who I am. And perhaps it's for the better. No matter how fucked up this person is. 

All of Me.

It has come to occur to me during the course of my therapy that I am afraid of people. People of all walks of life. People from every part of my life. Just people. Because people can hurt you. And they more often than not do. They're mysterious creatures, with mysterious motivations. We are unknowable. And that's what makes us so frightening. But I am inevitably drawn to them as well. All of us are. Like moths to a flame. Because we are meant to be social creatures. We are meant to let others hurt us and we are meant to hurt others. And if you are among the fortunate few, you will spend your time hurting others more than they can ever hurt you. You will break hearts and yet keep yours intact. And you will feel nothing for it. Because you are one of the fortunate few. But alas I am not. I spend more time getting my heart trampled and trodden over time and time again. Over and over again, the same story all over again. Just on a different day. And when the opportunity presents itself for me to hurt someone, I realize that I can't do it. That I would rather hurt than cause someone else to hurt. How is that fair? 

Because all of me, loves all of you. 

Love your curves and all your edges, 

All your perfect imperfections.

Give your all to me, I'll give my all to you.

You're my end and my beginning.

Even when I lose I'm winning. 

Because I give you all of me. 

Mi Mancherai.

My mind wants to clamp down and erase all traces of his existence. But my heart doesn't want to. 

Ode to Love.

All pain is real. No matter how trivial they may look and feel in retrospect, they were real the moment you felt them and they will remain real for the rest of your life. ~

It has come to cross my mind, as I have crossed paths with the very many broken people in this world. Broken by love. It's like a parade, never ending as one passes by and then another. Sometimes I wonder if there is a point to all this. Is there a reason. Why am I meeting all these broken people whose lives have been torn asunder by this one sweet but bile-choked thing called love. Is there a reason? We've all hurt and we will all hurt. But why am I exclusively meeting those who have never recovered from the scars of this thing called love? We're all broken people here. They're all broken people here. So it has crossed my mind. A broken heart is a difficult thing to get over, especially for certain types of people. And for some strange reason, these are the people I keep on meeting. One by one, one after another. An endless parade. It has come to the point that I wonder if everyone in this country is broken in some way by this cursed thing called love. There does seem to be an uncannily large number of them. In my world at least. Why do I attract these fools? Am I supposed to be learning some hidden, deep intrinsic message from this? It is all too obscure. 

So it has come to cross my mind. These broken people were broken by someone. That one person who meant so much and then chose to leave and shattered their world forever. That one person that meant so much. I have never meant so much to any one person in my life. No one has ever loved me so in fact I have never chosen to leave. I was always the one unfortunately, discarded. Discarded like so much old tissue paper and never thought of again. In fact, the one love of my life, the one who shattered me, had the audacity to turn around and regret everything we had together. Life would've been perfect if I was the best friend, and someone else had been his special someone. It never occurred to me how much this hurt or should hurt but maybe I have just been repressing it all. At the end I meant nothing at all again. Back at square one. 

Am I angry? Am I bitter? Yes. I am all those things. The one love of my life, the one who shattered me and in the end I meant nothing to him. Would he ever the affected by me as I have been affected by him? No. This world is a cruel and harsh place. This world of love is a cruel and a harsh place. There was a time when I was much younger, I would have embraced love with open arms. But now I would give anything to have ice chips for a heart. The last remnants of my humanity causes me pain on a daily basis. It's like blows, a boxer weathering a volley of blows. That's where I stand, hunkered down and avoiding volleys of blows after blows. Every day or every week of every month. Everything that reminds me of it hurts me. Bit by bit. Everything that makes me think of it even in the most unrelated way brings me pain. I am incapable of love. But it does seem that I am capable of hurt. So why am I enduring emotional purgatory for an emotional paradise that I am unable to experience? What seems to be the purpose. Even any fool would tell you that it is a foolish cause. I need to stop kidding myself. Someday. Someday I will be able to do it. Someday I will be able to give up so completely that nothing will be able to shift this lump of coal within my chest. And until I find that peace, I wait with bated breath. 

A Selfish Kind of Love.

"Tell me. If he couldn't give you those benefits anymore one day, would you still want him?" 

"... No..."

"If any of them had had to stop giving you whatever benefit it was you got from them, would you still have loved or wanted them?" 

I grappled with the question. The truth was I had always been completely selfish in my dealings with people. I didn't care if they were happy. I only cared if I was happy and anything that affected my happiness was a concern. A selfless love is one I have never experienced. Why would I care if he was happy with someone else? I care about whether I'm happy without him. Or whether I'm happy period. Every one of them have always given me something. And that something was companionship, for I liked their company. And the truth is without those benefits they confer upon me, they are essentially useless. 

"No."

"You see. You've never loved. You're not capable of love. All those little things, those sweet romantic little things that also break your heart. They're shallow. And superficial when you mull over them. They may not be for someone else, but for you they are. Because you're unable to love. So essentially all those things mean nothing to you. They sure as hell don't mean love. All they mean to you is a strike to your self esteem and your sense of self worth. Don't kid yourself. It was never about them. It was always about you. Because you're not capable of love."