By far, a more personal note, written previously to my last "relationship," relationship that has had the power to crumble to the ground all that I had stood for and believed in, relationship that made me feel I had it all wrong. You might ask yourself then why would I be posting this. Perhaps I am looking for some cheap reinforcement or validation - we've all been through a break up, on either side, and will mostly likely go through more along the way. Once again, these are simply my collected thoughts. They are not meant to educate anyone in any way. But if they do, glad I could put it in such perspective.
I sighed gravely as I listened to my friend sob uncontrollably on the other end of the line.
"But I was doing so well before he came into my life," before meaning two weeks ago.
Since when does "seeing someone" for two weeks grant him/her the privilege of "coming into your life"? There ought to be a stern rule of dating that would allow no one to partake in such nonsensical way of thinking. Or okay, feeling. (But when is feeling ever sensible?)
While I rest my case on charades of disillusionment I've found myself in the past, I can only think of one person who has possessed the ungodly yet refined control of my emotions from the start. I remember a time being at the mercy of a man, a man whom I had adored yet was able to look straight in the eye and hate with all of my might at the same time. The entwined brutal blend of these two powerful emotions fed my insecurities, my lows and my fears.
I had to leave the first man I truly loved because the man I loved did not love me. The man I loved chose, at the time, to love himself more, keeping me at arm's reach, use and further expected disposal - a doormat would have probably received better treatment. Needless to explain, getting out of an unhealthy relationship is no easy task for the confused, emotionally consumed, enamored fool. Foolishly, I had believed that he was my drug, my cheap thrill and my favorite mistake. Mistake that I came to learn from, of course. I found the strength to leave and move on with my life. Two years and a lot of self-reflection later, he decides to come back into my life with more genuine representations, pleads and intentions, he speaks kindly of "friendship" and "maybe more." It's hard to say what his words now generate because it's hard to find emotion in indifference. I buried this episode of my past too deeply to even begin to think about exerting any emotional energy in trying to find it or dig it back up. As cold as that might sound, I can say at least I'm honest. I believe it all being state of mind because I refuse to make the same mistakes.
I've learned the heart is a powerful tool. But I can honestly say the mind is even more powerful. It's harder to "break" a mind. A mind is smarter, wiser, and more vigilant. It never lays perplexed in stupor; it rejoices in its dignity and resilience. Of course, one cannot LOVE with the mind, but getting the two to act and work together accordingly is what makes one of the best kinds of love.
Is it all a part of life, of being young and stupid and falling in love at the wrong time with the wrong person? Perhaps, but the basis for that lies at the core of humanity and its pitfalls. Heartbreak is meant to act as a stern tutor, a doctor who's the bearer of bad news. There's no escape from it and when experiencing it, life seems to literally be physically and emotionally unbearable. But time "does its thing", and then you find yourself in a place you'd never thought you'd be: fully past the pain.
I've hung onto a couple of maybes and what ifs, which is precisely the reason why I chose to close his chapter of my life. He will forever linger as a lover from my past. Simple. Nothing more and nothing less. I will always love him. But quietly. It will never surface. There's a certain romantic allure I seem to find in past lovers. I first remember the cryptic bitterness of the initial disappointment that comes down like a heavy blow, the encountered drama and pure stillness of the moment in which I feel the need to first gather strength to try and pull myself together. Thereafter again, as time exudes strength of character and need to heal, I look back and smile and remember just how good I had felt at certain times. It stirs hope in me that I can always find better, leaving me smiling because it happened, not frowning because of the desolate goodbye.
And so I've become wiser. Not sadder. Not anymore. Composure of character and emotions is crucial. I've always felt it being second nature to me. I've never permitted anyone after my lapse to have the power. Why? Because it shows. The gratification of it is sensed in your words and actions, your whole being oozing with an inadvertent stench of weakness and inferiority. The mistiness of the "talking-and-seeing-someon
I've always felt that I could keep whatever I want open (legs, arms, etc.) as long as I kept a closed heart. I later on found logic but no truth in this tactic. It failed me, not because I wanted validation but because I learned the ways to be, in romantic matters and otherwise, should rarely, if ever, depend on expectations and gratifications of others.
I shoudln't deny the fact that everyone ultimately yearns for love, which is why I do believe in an ultimate divine blend of beautiful composure of the emotional character and yet the powerful ability to allow yourself to step into love "on two steady feet". I'm precisely emphasizing the collectiveness needed in the beginning, the confident border-line haughty poise of strength and vigilance I know everyone posseses, the product of the two - the heart and the mind combined - being where true happiness - single or involved - begins to unfold.