Logo

It's 4:30 am. I'm up on the terrace of my parent's place and I'm thinking about life, the universe and everything in general. I begin to ask myself the questions that usually pop into my mind at times like these (I'm sure I'm not the only one who get's all philosophical after midnight).
"What am I doing?"
"What would I rather be doing at this very moment?"
"Who do I want to be?" (as usual, I've caught myself before I add "..when I grow up" to the end of that question.)
While the answers to the first two questions come to me almost immediately, it's always the answer to the third one that eludes me.
The reason being that I'm a very immediate type of person. I'm highly attuned to my own emotions at most times. That is not to say that I don't mull over ice cream flavors or shampoo brands, but if someone were to ask me about what I want at that exact moment, it won't take me too long to answer.
But to look inward and find the motivation to look past the present is something I always have to put a tremendous amount of effort into. For me, the temptations of the present seem much harder to resist than it is for others. To say I lack will power is an understatement, and I always end up doing what I want with little regard for what I might need.
My mind usually jumps to answering the question, "What would you like to change about yourself", rather than first answering the much harder question of who I want to be.
Because of the way I am, I often tend to corner myself into doing difficult tasks or making hard decisions. Procrastination is an art form that I have mastered. Never have I studied for an exam before the 11th hour, or started on a project at work before I absolutely had to. Because of this, I set extremely high targets, and usually over commit to people, thereby strong-arming myself into doing good where I could have done great.
Occasionally, I tell myself that I am sick of answering only those questions that I know the answers to, so I go up to the terrace, have a smoke, and make grand plans to change my approach to life, only to fall asleep at 5:30 am and wake up at noon having missed half the day.
If our lives were programs that we write and execute for ourselves, I'm still trying to solve life's complex problems by coding in BASIC while everyone else has moved on to Java. In love and in life, I seem to be doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.

Something old

Another one of those things I wrote when I was heartbroken:

Speaking the truth, speaking your heart out, laying bare your soul and disclosing your long hidden secrets - being able to do that is so liberating. And what's more, when you're able to do that with someone, it's addictive. It's an obsession.

You've lived your whole life putting up barriers, protecting your heart, swearing to your closest friends that there are some secrets about yourself you'll never reveal. But then you chance upon someone who plants that sense of freedom in you, who ignites that spark, who awakens that part of you. And you can't stop. And it's completely unfair because you've spent so many years constructing that fortress around your heart and soul, as if you had to lay it brick by brick with your own two hands. But along comes this person, this singular cause of your ecstatic, euphoric need to speak the truth from within the deepest recesses of your heart. It's so unfair because this person is so interested in all your little secrets, your treasures. You need only hear the glee in his voice to pour out more of yourself for him to see.

And then he's gone. But before he leaves he hides in the corner to laugh at your gullibility. And once he's left, it's as if he's taken those parts of you  with him. He lit a fire in you and stole your secrets as they escaped out. And now the only thing that's left is that burning empty fortress, still burning, even with no

one left to stroke the fire, obsessed with feeling that sense of euphoria again, but  with nothing left to protect.

Man..Why do I even try.

Two Realities

I knew we were doomed from the very beginning.

But we were living in the moment, and I loved every moment.

For me, the past still overlaps the present. It's as if you looked me in the eyes, took me in your arms and told me the sweetest most earnest thing anyone has ever said to me, just a moment ago. In truth, it's only been two days since you decided to stop being that person. I so desperately look for that affection on your face when I look at you, but all that's there now is a kind of forced distance mixed with annoyance and fear.
While you've obviously made up your mind, I'm still living in an apartment unchanged since the last time we were there. The bed is still ruffled the way we left it. The dishes are still in the tray where we left them after washing. The last thing you cooked for me is still in the fridge, all moldy because my landlord decided to turn of the electricity for a while when we were gone. And, every time I switch the lights on and off, the shadows they make remind me of the times you and I stopped at those particular spots, our silhouettes outlined for each other to drink in the sight.

It's like we're living in parallel universes. So close and yet no hope of intersecting.

Pain

Pain comes in all forms.

I'm in pain. Not the physical kind. Although, it sure feels like it. It's pain that grips my insides and twists it so I can't breathe. Pain that feels like my chest is being ripped open with a steak knife, over and over again. Pain that feels like I can't fix it no matter what I try. One second I'm completely fine and the next second I'm writhing in agony. Every little thing triggers it off.

For those of you who've never felt it, or are poetically challenged, I feel sad for you. I feel sad that you have never felt this kind of pain. And for those who know what I'm talking about, or guessed it right, well you still don't know what I'm talking about because no two heartbreaks are the same.

Every time I look at something he touched, or someplace he stood or sat, or played with my fingers, it all comes crashing down again. I've left everything just as it was so that the memories don't fade away. But with each sweet memory, there's uncontrollable pain.

Your memories in me

Something I wrote after my previous heartbreak:

"I’m trying.

I’m really trying.

But your quirks, your idiosyncrasies, your laughter, your voice, all of it – they haunt me.

   I know that one day I will wake up and check my phone without the hope that you had sent me a text. I know that one day you will be just another Facebook friend. I know that one day your face will not be so clear in my mind’s eye.

   But today, tomorrow and for days to come, you’re every little nothing haunts me and follows me everywhere. Your mocking voice in a candid video, or your jesting smile heard through recorded sounds. The way your voice was hoarse when I woke you in the morning and so intoxicatingly soft in the night, when all I wanted to do was hear your voice and all you wanted to do was hear me breathe.  The memories of a time when I knew in my every fiber that the possibilities were limitless, of a time when I was willing to take a leap of faith in your direction, they cling to every crevice of my mind.

The little triggers that cause memory explosions, they’re everywhere I turn.

Just when I begin to think that you have seized to be a part of my every day, I trip and chance upon something new or old, something I forgot existed, or something of yours I forgot to hide, that brings back every part of you afresh."

Seems so idiotic now. Sure, it's nice to read, in a morose sort of way, but it's nothing. Literally nothing. I fell in love with the wrong guy.
No, I didn't fall in love. I merely opened myself up for a fraction of a second.
Seems ridiculous compared to how much of my true self I exposed recently, to the guy I wish I'd fallen in love with in the first place. I'll never get back the time I wish I'd spent on getting to know him instead of chasing some stupid fantasy. Time I wish I'd spent simply being with him, even if only to make his life a little better. And now, he's gone too. Stupid, stupid, me.