Faith.

I'm trying my best to keep up this newfound optimism, for want of a better word. I have realised that there is no point dallying with the worse fictional things that I tell myself every day and keeping myself down under a cloud of misery all the time. Why do that. It's not getting me anywhere. It's definitely not improving my quality of life neither does it guarantee that failure will not happen or if it does that it will not affect me. Keeping myself in a cloud of grey has been the most pointless thing I have done in my entire life and I am trying to break free from that habit. 

But whenever he talks to me, and with that cutting indifference that attempts with every ounce of vindictiveness within him to hurt me as much as possible, he batters on the very door of my defences. With that malice and that venom he reserves only for those he subconsciously feels are trying to steal from him the very things he values most in his self development, he batters at the very gates defending my self development. And I find myself asking again in a flurry of confusion that I try to dissipate; what is the point of trying so hard for someone just like him who clearly doesn't care about me and who probably cannot care about me his whole life. And the questions they lead to other questions and I have to slam the lid on that destructive box shut before it has the ability to do too much damage. 

I have never loved someone as much as I loved him. Hopelessly, and without reason and so pointlessly. Perhaps it was because I knew not how to love before this or what love is before this. It could be that I have changed and the way I deal with love now is also different. I don't know the reason. But I have known in my heart of hearts that for some unknown and unfathomable reason, that even as I try to make my recovery from the subduing drug of my own depressive tendencies, that I still do love him. I can't seem to shake it although there is no reason on earth why I should love him. And I have entertained thoughts on trying. And trying again. Until... Until God knows when. Persistence is rewarded in some cases. But the age old question is, when do we know that it is the right time to give up and walk away? I can think of multiple highly heartbreaking scenarios where one would be forced and even compelled to walk away. But we shall not go there. As I have established irrevocably that I do love him, and that my heart wants what it wants; I have entertained the thought of just keeping on at it. At a slower more steady and measured pace. With more measured or even no expectations. Just keep trying for my own sake. But I have yet to decide on a definitive course of action. I suppose I'll just keep doing what I do. 

He will not make things easy for me and I will keep wondering and having to break the flurry up, on why the fuck I'm still doing that. And the answer would lurk in the very deepest part of my heart it is that because I still love him. This struggle will continue, but I must be above it. We all make decisions and we make decisions to make sacrifices in this life. And since my heart has since decided, why question and second guess my decision. 

You Said You Cared About Me

You said that you cared about me. Why then were you so ready to abandon me? I guess you cared for yourself even more. But then again who wouldn't I guess. 

Going Back.

There are a lot of things that I find myself wanting to say to you. But somehow after a while all these words, they fall out of my mouth and into the air and vanish, never having made it into any missive to you. I don't know if this is a good thing. Maybe it is, I suspect it might be. But it's strange. I've never found myself lacking the will to say something to you before. Before, every moment and word exchanged with you was a joy for me. I waited with bated breath for your reply or in happy anticipation knowing that you will and I will be even happier. But now, maybe not anymore. Those words they fall silent and they disappear in the wind. And I no longer want as much to say these things to you. Maybe it's right. We can't go back. There is no way to stay in one place stagnant forever and the time has come to move. I don't want to go back. I want to move forward. 

Why Do I Still Believe?

Lord have mercy... Deliver me from this bondage of my emotions that I can find happiness again be it not in his arms, be it not within his love. 

Why do I still believe that it can happen?

Hallelujah...

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music do you... Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah... 

"Getting hurt in this world is inevitable, but we do get to choose who we allow to hurt us." Why do I choose to keep letting him hurt me? Every single thing he does, every single word he says hurts me so much. He doesn't know just how much everything he does hurts me so deeply and he wouldn't care. He's so selfish, he doesn't care. I've tried everything to make things go back to the way they were but nothing is working. I'm so afraid of everything he'll say; I'm so afraid that he will get angry, so afraid that he won't reply, that I can't do anything much. He's the sun and the stars to me but I am nothing to him. And I live in fear of him and I get hurt so deeply, every time; with every reply, every non reply. Nothing he does doesn't hurt me anymore. Now everything does. He used to make me happy. Now all he does is make me cry. And break my heart with every single step of the way. 

Freedom, Beauty, Truth and Love.

I am a true romantic at heart. But I've been hurt too deeply for my romanticism to show itself untarnished. It is like a light that must shine through the darkened scars on my heart. I am a romantic. Watching Moulin Rouge! moves me to tears. But my heart is hardened and I am afraid. Fantasy is one thing. But things are hardly ever the same in real life. And love is hardly ever so pure and so simple and so beautiful. I truly believe in the ideals of freedom, beauty, truth and most of all love. Just like Christian. But those ideals don't translate the same in real life and when brought over, they just get complicated. They get muddled by the intricacies and the complexities and they disappear in the practicality of real life. Love is hardly exciting. It must be practical. It is hardly ever reckless abandon. It is now a pastime or a means to an end. We don't view love as sacred anymore. We don't live and love like love is sacred anymore. But I am a romantic at heart and I believe in true love. Even if it takes a whole lot more for the light to shine through the scars on my heart. 

Confession.

I'm in love with you. You've never given me anything and yet I've fallen in love with you. I don't need your sympathy, I don't need your pity. And I know you don't love me back but there was a time when I couldn't imagine life without you. Life without you wouldn't be worth living and even thinking about it filled me with fear and dread. You were everything to me. There is nothing special about Newcastle. You made this city beautiful for me. Because this city is where I met you and this city is where you are and all I ever wanted was to be with you forever. I loved you that much. 

But sometimes I'm scared for you. I don't know what you're doing and what your ambitions would lead to. I don't know if it's safe and I don't know if it's healthy or if it's recommended. I'm afraid that you will go somewhere that I cannot follow and you will retreat into a place where you will be alone forever. And you will be happy. But I will lose you forever. Not that I ever had you. I don't know if you're truly happy. But a part of me quietly feels that you are still searching; always searching for something. And you wish to go higher and higher, as far up as possible and as far away from the possibility that the feelings and insecurities that used to hurt you before can hurt you again. But that feels like running. I may be wrong but in my mind, what you seem to be looking for to me is a peace and contentment where you don't need to run, you don't need to climb higher; where you can just be and be happy and content. And you don't seem to have found it yet. You feel that you can find it maybe in climbing higher and exploring new avenues of feeling good but maybe you're not looking in the right ways or in the right places. I want you to find what you're looking for, but I don't think it's where you think it is. I'm afraid that you won't find it because you're looking in the wrong place, and I'm also afraid that in looking there you will go further than I can follow and you will be lost in your new direction even though it isn't what you wanted in the first place. But maybe I'm just scared of losing you. 

Moulin Rouge!

I have always been a child with a particularly fragile heart. Maybe that is why I have always instinctively guarded it with a jealous zeal. Always making sure that I would never get hurt almost like an overprotective father who tries his best to shield his daughter. But also like the father who tries to shield his daughter, in the end she rebels and ends up making the very same mistakes he tried to prevent her from making. Some lessons cannot be learned any other way. 

I do not want to be accused of over romanticising certain things but in a way I now know and feel things in a way I never was able to before. What did I understand of love before this? I knew it was a concept. Nothing more! It was nothing; nothing compared to the knowledge now and the feelings they bring with them. It is like seeing a watercolour painting and then going to the scene and taking in the picturesque view yourself. There is so much difference. What did I feel before this when I saw examples and depictions of love? Nothing! I saw nothing! And I felt nothing. But now, I understand it in a way that I could not have a few years ago. And with the understanding comes the appreciation. And with that comes the tears when you watch a sad love movie. It feels so real now. When it used to feel like just a film. 

I've always been of the sappy sort. I've always been a hopeless romantic and a true believer in love. I've longed for it with every fibre of my being long before I even knew I did. And being like the overprotective father, I did my best to hide it. But there's no point in hiding it now is there. What is the point of further concealing who you are to the eyes of the world. I'd sooner just show my true self and be free. I do not want to overthink and overlook into these matters. But now with my newfound sensitivity to matters such as these, I wonder if he was here to teach me something. No doubt I have learned a lot from my time with him. All of them ground shattering, all of them painful. But a lot nonetheless. I can appreciate now all the lessons I learned from him whether advertently or inadvertently. He never meant to teach me anything. Indeed he couldn't care less about what is going on. This exists in my world you see, not in his. But of course learned from it I did. I wonder sometimes at what I have become. The overwhelming burgeoning of emotions that spill over and were never there before. It's like I've opened a whole new door to my existence and I didn't even know it was locked to begin with. Love can do many things to you. And the one thing it will most definitely do, is to make your heart bleed. Tears flowed mighty freely when I watched the Moulin Rouge. And it is all well and good and all too easy to imagine yourself in the place of Satine and Christian. We are all after all, the protagonists in our own stories. But a thought struck me as I was watching the movie and it did not please me but what if instead of them, I was in actuality the Duke? I could see many similarities in my own story to the Duke. How he insists on making something happen even when it's hopeless and he tries everything; everything to attain someone who never loved him and would never love him. How he goes about his efforts with a dogged determination like he was sure that they would work to make her love him but in the end we do see that it is all so futile. But he didn't think so. He genuinely thought that he could make it happen. And that resounds uncomfortably true with my own situation doesn't it. There is no point in trying and I should have given up and walked away a long time ago. But I kept on trying. To what avail? None whatsoever. And it is time that I realised that instead of sinking deeper and deeper into my desperate efforts like the Duke did and getting enmeshed in somebody else's love story. Yes it is somebody else's love story. And it doesn't matter that it is breaking my heart into a million different pieces. I am just in the way. 

Portrait of a Woman

She was fair, with a milk white marble complexion and dark hair framed her face. Her almond shaped eyes were small, but dark and piercing and she had the most intense stare he remembered encountering in a long time. There was no joy in her expression. It was like something carved in stone; immobile, cold and staring. He felt unease immediately around her. There was no commonality, no warmth. Just a sort of disconnect which most people would automatically shy away from even without understanding why. She was not so much remarkable as she was out of place so he looked away and concentrated on other more interesting matters while she faded into the background. He saw her other times that night, flitting through the room, one moment here, another there. And it always struck him as odd, seeing her slouching there talking to someone. She didn't seem the type to smile or to laugh and yet she did all those things. It felt incongruous to a fault. And once again he turned away and put her out of his mind. He would much rather focus on the pretty girl making waves and dazzling in the centre of the room; with her chandelier laugh and her bright animation. Now that was a woman he could be interested in. So full of life, so full of energy; not stiff and carved in stone. No, she would be relegated to the darkest corners of his mind and soon forgotten just like the rest of the inconsequential things he encountered. Tonight was a night for fun and merry-making and that warm blooded woman with the smile, he thought as he made his way over to her and further and further away from the other woman. 

She was awkward and fumblingly clumsy in her social skills. Such a loud laugh, and such boisterousness, he remarked as he watched her laugh at a joke. Her eyes crinkled into tiny slits as she guffawed and hollered in entertainment. It was not that she was inept in any way, but he found her clumsy attempts uncomfortable and as such he would much rather mingle with those whom he could speak more freely. There was just something remarkable strange although subtle about her comments and the timing with which she makes them. Like a hit and miss although mainly missing. She sat still in a silence sometimes like she had absolutely no interest in the conversation but then when she chipped in, there was a jarring miss every time. He felt slightly sorry for her if he thought about it too much. But as for itself, it was inconsequential and he did not think about it too much. He did not think about it very much at all. It was much easier to lose himself in the sparkling conversation going on than to wonder too much about the odd girl who seemed somewhat out of place. Leave it to someone else. Someone else would talk to her he was sure. But it need not be him. There were much more interesting things to do. 

She was kind, and she was helpful, he thought absently as she returned with what he needed and deftly tended to his condition. He sipped the hot cocoa slowly, minding the heat while somewhere in his peripheral vision he saw her moving beside him, not sure what she was doing. Already her kindness was slipping from his mind. Of course it would go without saying would it not. He was grateful. She asked him how he was feeling. Good he said, and his mind continued to wander; caught up in other things, things he would not remember if asked about; just drifting. Beside him he vaguely felt her press a cushion onto his lap while she tried to make him comfortable. She had always been nice and she had always been kind. She was always helpful when she could be and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that. And if someone were to ask he would definitely say so. But since no one is asking, really it's of no consequence isn't it. His thoughts were already quickly drifting towards other things, his mind on other people; what they did, what antics they got up to and he chuckled inwardly. They were such fun people, such funny people. They were an absolute joy to be around. Of course it didn't matter that they weren't here now, it was hardly the place and time to expect them to be, he casually thought as he accepted the biscuits she lay before him. And of course her too, she was nice, he contemplated vaguely before drifting off again into thoughts of their delightful company and the delightful things they could get up to the next time around. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her kindness, no. It's just that there's nothing much to think about her kindness is there as his mind wandered to the girl he met the other day. She had helped him pick up a book. How so very kind of her.