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Today is a day of resolutions. A day of fresh starts and new beginnings. A day of change. Of course, other than a change in the date, it's not really that big a deal. I mean, same job, same friends, same bank balance, same life. So why the fuss? It's really just a reason to legitimately get drunk the night before, to not feel guilty about being hungover in the morning and to forget all the screw ups of the year gone by. It's just a reason to hope that maybe this year will be better. So, Happy New Year!
1. Write more. A whole lot more. Every day.
2. Finish the book I started writing. Maybe start another one even.
3. Learn to play the guitar or the violin or the piano. Basically, something musical.
4. Read. Read. Read.
5. Save money. Put away something from my salary every month.
6. Travel. Anywhere. Everywhere.
7. Learn a language. Take up a course. Do something academic.
8. Get a tattoo? Maybe.
9. Do not be afraid of being alone.
10. Be happy.
Why do I keep going back? Why do I keep giving him second, third, hundred chances? Why can't I give up and let go? He did drugs. Again. After promising me repeatedly that he wouldn't. Again. He just wanted to have some fun, he said. Fun. Was it fun when I spent all night crying? Was it fun when he made me feel like he was choosing the drugs over me? Was it fun that we fought and I threatened to end our relationship? I don't know what to do any more. I'm lost and alone. And slowly going crazy.
I hate you for all the times you made me cry. I hate you more for all the laughs and all the good times. I hate you for making me melt every time you look at me. Every time. I hate you for making me feel a love so strong that I thought I'd die without it. I hate you because you made me feel things I didn't know I could feel. I hate you because you broke my heart. I hate you for leaving me to fend for myself. I hate you because, despite that, I still love you.
I've never really thought about killing myself. I couldn't bring myself to do it knowing it would destroy my parents and the people who love and care about me. But lately, I've started thinking about it. Wondering what it would be like if I was just dead. Maybe I'm bored with life. Maybe I'm fed up. Maybe death just seems easier than the many different ways my life could turn out. Maybe I just don't want to face any hurt and pain. I know I won't do it. I know these are just random thoughts. They're just there. That's all.
I have a lump behind my ear that refuses to go away. I've taken antibiotics, done my blood tests, got a chest x-ray, done a sonography - all normal. So what the on earth is it? I'm waiting to get some more test results that will hopefully be more conclusive. The doctor seems as clueless as I am and the internet has thrown up everything from a common infection to cancer. Of course, the melodramatic imagination I have is leaning towards cancer. It makes me feel more like the pained but strong protagonist in this story that is my life.
Why I can't let go:
I don't like to lose. Games, fights, relationships.
I feel like I'm giving up. Who gives up? People who don't mind losing. I'm not one of those people.
It leaves me with a sense of emptiness, like I've left something incomplete.
But sometimes, letting go is not giving up, it's not losing. It's knowing where to draw the line. It's understanding that I can't control everything. It's knowing that while letting go may feel like a loss, it's a win in the long run. Learn to let go.
I want to be inspired. I want to be caught in a whirlwind of ideas that are so insanely amazing, they must instantaneously be put down in ink for the world to read. I want to be able to write something more than how my love life seems to be stuck in a rut. But I can't. I haven't gotten any ideas in more than a year. I haven't been able to think about anything other than my sucky love life. I haven't been able to write more than 100 words at a go. It's a problem I can't solve.
Music can change my mood. So can dancing. And good books. Great movies. Interesting conversation. Beautiful views. Turns out there are lots of things that can make me feel better about myself. Too bad I spend most of my time obsessing over my crappy love life and what I should be doing to make it better. Too bad I spend most of my time wondering how to make him happy instead of thinking about my own happiness. Because at the end of the day, I'm still going to be in a bad mood. And I'm probably going to be single.
I need to start writing more. True, I don't really have anything to write about. Nothing substantial, nothing concrete. I don't have any inspiration. I don't have any ideas. But when I'm writing, my thoughts are streamlined. I'm focused. I'm not distracted by the humdrum that is my life. Writing takes me away. I lose myself in my thoughts and in my words. Writing makes me feel better. I can't express myself better in any other way. Writing lets me say what's eating me up inside. And sometimes I let out things I didn't know I had locked up inside.
Stop letting the little things affect you. Stop spending time with people who bring you down. Stop being somebody people expect you to be instead of being who you really are. Instead, spend time doing the things you love, things that relax you and make you happy. Spend time with people you love and who love you back. Discover yourself and learn to be happy with who you are. Happiness is a state of mind. It's something you can choose to be. It's something that everyone has a right to be. Be happy. Because that's the best way to be.
Everything is different. He doesn't want to spend time with me anymore. He doesn't call or send me sweet messages. He would much rather go out with his friends than take me out. Even the sex is different. He denies it when I talk to him about it or he gets defensive and we end up fighting. I'm tired of this and I want things to change. I want to go back to when we had first started dating. When we were so in love with each other that we couldn't get enough. I think it may be too late.
I'm a good person. I truly believe that. I'm kind and generous. I love my family and friends and would do absolutely anything for them. I don't lie or cheat. I'm happy, for the most part, with not much to complain about. I used to think that good things happen to good people. But not much good has happened of late. Work is fine. Family and friends are fine. Love is not. Health is not. I am not. So am I not a good person? Or is this one of those times where good things come to those who wait?
I don't know why I've stopped reading. Books are my escape. They take me to far away lands. They take me into the lives of other people so I can forget about my own. I used to read all the time. Reading made me happy, left me satisfied. It gave me a sense of purpose, the inspiration to write. I stopped reading. I stopped writing. I stopped feeling smart. It's my resolution this year to read more. A whole lot more. I have tons of books to catch up on and very little time. The time has come to read.
When love comes into your life, it's the best feeling in the world. It brings colour and laughter and an unbridled joy that cannot be explained. It heals old wounds, mends broken hearts, makes everything better. When love threatens to leave, it leaves you insecure, afraid, uncertain of your own ability to survive without it. It makes you lose your self esteem, your self confidence, making you beg it to stay longer than its time. When love leaves, it leaves you heartbroken, crushed, unable to breathe. It makes you want to sob, to die. And then one day, love reappears.
We broke up today. Exactly 20 months after we started dating. He suddenly doesn't know what he wants from this relationship. He doesn't think he wants marriage and kids anymore. All he's said to me this last year and a half is that he can't wait to have kids with me, that our kids will be adorable, that they'll love him more than they love me. And I still want all those things. With him. But why stay with him when he doesn't? It doesn't make sense to drag this out when we want different things. Nothing has hurt more.
I didn't think we'd end it like this. I didn't think this would be the reason. I always thought that if it ended it would be because of his lying or his drugs or if he cheated on me. I didn't think it would be because he wasn't sure of what he wanted from us. We both cried, both holding on to what we could. We both talked, trying to convince each other and ourselves that maybe at some point it would work out for us. We made love, for possibly the last time. I still can't believe it's over.
Two days. It's been two days since I heard his voice. As much as it hurts to think about what could have been and about all the promises we made to each other, I know this is the best thing for us. We had stopped being good for each other a long while ago. I ended up holding on to this relationship and fighting for things to work way longer than I should have. It was time to stop lying to ourselves that this was right for us. It was time to move on. It was time to let go.
Falling in love seems to be the most important thing in my life. It's all I've ever wanted. I've never dreamed of being rich and famous, of having a career. Neither have I dreamed of getting married and having a beautiful wedding. But I have dreamed of falling in love with the perfect guy. My definition of the perfect guy has evolved over the years, but my dream of falling madly in love with someone who's madly in love with me has stayed constant. Maybe I need to give up on that dream. Maybe I need to find another dream.
He made me fall in love with him. He said the things I wanted to hear, the things I had imagined the guy I ended up with would say to me. He made me feel all the things I had read about and watched in movies. I guess he read the same books and watched the same movies I did. He tricked me into falling in love with him. He pretended to be everything I'd ever dreamed of. And then, suddenly, it all just stopped. But it was too late for me. I was already head over heels in love.
I'm done with boys. I don't want to see, hear, think of or be around boys anymore. They're stupid and immature and say things they don't mean. They would much rather sleep around and get high while making promises of commitment than actually do the things they promise you they'll do. They'll always make you feel like you're not good enough, like it's your fault. They'll always make you cry and break your heart. I'm done with boys. I'm done with dating them, with falling in love with them, with thinking they're right for me. I now need a man.
I've been sleeping better. I've spent time with my mom, with my friends, by myself. I've started to remember who I used to be before the fights, the constant stress, the insecurity. I like who I used to be before this relationship, before he took over my life and every thought that emanated from my brain. I'm still obsessing. I'm still writing about him. I'm still dreaming dreams where this ends happily. But I'm finding myself again. A happier, calmer, more satisfied me. It's nice to remember. It's nice to go back to a better time. It's nice to sleep.
Breakups suck. Especially when you've led yourself to believe that you're with the one you're going to spend the rest of your life with. That you're done with heartbreak and you've found your happily ever after. Then breakups suck even more. Surprisingly, I'm doing better than I expected. I don't know if it's because I gave this relationship everything I had and just couldn't do it anymore. Or because I've cried so much in the last year that I've become numb to pain. Or because I knew it was imminent and I was subconsciously prepared. Either way, I'm doing okay.
Stupid. I feel stupid for falling so head over heels in love with someone so different from me. Stupid for believing he could change. For thinking that I could be the one he would choose over the drugs. Stupid. Stupid for listening to his sweet nothings. Stupid for dreaming dreams of the future. Stupid for believing his promises and empty words. Stupid. I feel stupid for thinking this was it. Stupid for giving him chances over and over again. For holding on for as long as I did. For not letting go. Just stupid. And that sucks more than anything.
We talk off and on. It's always him calling to check on me. Sometimes, he calls by mistake. Or so he says. It feels good to hear his voice. Even if it's just for a minute. But it also makes me incredibly sad. It makes me miss him more. It makes me reminisce, wish things had been different, hope for a miraculous change in how he is. These mixed emotions confuse me. I've told him not to call me anymore. But every time I see his name flash on my screen, my heart beats faster. I just have to answer.
Some days I'm fine. I'm too busy meeting my friends, drinking at different bars, dancing with strangers. I'm too busy working my ass off, finding new avenues to write and maybe even make more money, getting immersed in new books. I'm too busy making travel plans that may or may not ever see the light of day. I don't have time to think about him. And then some days, I let myself sink into my memories. I let myself remember the things we said to each other, the promises we made. And I miss him. So much, I can't breathe.
I wake up every morning and tell myself I'm not going to think of him. I breathe in deeply, remember that I'm amazing and don't need much to be happy, and I start my day with a smile. I get to work and get busy. In between all this, I check my phone. Multiple times. Sometimes to reply to my friends. Mostly to check if he's called. Then I remind myself not to do that again. And I get on with life. Someday I'll stop checking my phone to see if there's anything from him. That day isn't today though.
Do I have what it takes to write for a living? To give up the comfort of a job with a guaranteed monthly salary to just write? To maybe be a successful writer or to just vanish into oblivion without ever writing something worth reading? Do I have what it takes to give up a job, a life I'm comfortable with and just travel, maybe? Go visit places I haven't seen before, meet new people, do it all by myself? I want to do it. But that means moving WAY out of my comfort zone. Easier said than done, no?
I had decided that if I break up with him, I'm going to spend all my money on a vacation by myself. Somewhere far away, somewhere exotic. I don't have the money for it. And anytime that I'm alone I find myself slipping into my memories of him that just depress the sh*t out of me. So I cannot be alone. Not right now. While this traveling alone concept is highly romantic, it's pretty stupid right now. So here's the plan - I'll save as much money as I can and go bring in this New Year with my sister.
Love is blind. It's also deaf. And really dumb. You know things are wrong. You feel it, you think it, you've been told it. Everybody else can see it. But you refuse to admit it. You refuse to believe it. Not until it hits you in the face and sends you crashing to the floor. Not until it leaves you beaten and bruised with scars you'll never be able to cover up. Not until you realise you have to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Not until you realise you're much better off by yourself. Maybe not even then.
Yesterday was the best date I have ever been on. Lunch, board games, happy hours, dinner. All day long. A date with my best friend. Maybe my best friend is my other half. Maybe she's my soul mate. She knows my secrets, she knows my deepest darkest fears. She's seen me through my ups and downs. And I've been there for her through hers. There's no pretending with each other. We are what we are. And we love each other exactly for that. Who needs a boy when I have her. Except for sex, maybe. But getting that is easy.
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