Grieve Future, Grieve.

HERE

I don’t know what a broken heart feels like. Or maybe I do but because I feel it too often, I am incapable to differentiate it from other mere feelings of sadness or hurting. But how can sadness be just ‘mere’? Whenever I’m sad I long for an overwhelming compassion and words that are beyond the amorous movies, beyond this mortal earth. Perhaps that’s what adds to the tragedy, wanting the things I can’t have. Expectation has been my biggest let-down.

I’m afraid of the very same things that I want. Because I don’t know if it is right to want them. Happiness is best if shared, they say. But how about it when there’s nobody to share it with?

Loving someone just got uglier.

It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to.

Every day, inevitably, I draw closer to an impending chapter of my life. I just don’t know whether to be happy or sad about it. My Mother gives my Brother and I a lot of formidable advices and I’m not sure if my Brother dwells over it as much as I do, but I do. On many occasions she has told us that if we truly want something and work hard towards it, God helps us unfailingly to attain the same.

Perhaps I’m the little optimist like my Father, because I have faith in the little things that people deem hopeless. When you come from a little family like mine, in a little town, you are familiar with the annoying but ever so common innuendoes like ‘what will people say?’ I believe in magic, good magic. It happened to me 5 years ago. Magic exists amidst us. We call it God. If I were granted three wishes or more or less, I’d like to first wish to rid of the current mind-sets of a lot of the inhabitants of my little town so that people like me and K could have no qualms about our choices and decisions. My Mother, (cue family) falls into the list too, sadly. But I don’t blame her. 

Tomorrow I turn 21, and March hasn’t been good to me even for a day, starting from Day 1 when I lost Dobby. I hope he knows how special he was to KS and I. That we miss him dearly.

An Open Secret.

Life happens to me in-between. I don’t like sex as much as I like the kisses and strokes that lead to it. Anticipation is my happy place. But lately there has been a shift. Uncertainty scares me as much as mediocrity.

About a decade ago, my Father used to work out of town. I remember a time when I waited for his arrival every day for about 3 days, not knowing the exact day of his arrival. I never asked my Mother too but I just stood by the edge of the stairs looking out the street hoping the next car that appears is him. It was a celebration every time he came home. But the goodbyes were more intense. Today I wonder how my Mother coped with the parting.

Because I think I am in dire need of the same. I don’t know a lot of things lately. I don’t know if my assumptions are true. I tell him that he has changed. He doesn’t deny it but he tells me all the right things and he means it. I think he is going to leave the city for work reasons and I find myself fighting the urge to tell him every day how much I want him to stay. But I have always been the good girlfriend, I’ve always understood. It has always come easy, with good food.

When Dreams meet Reality.

I don’t remember his features but he was a fine-looking boy, someone who looked like he came right out of a movie, and would be incredibly out of my league. Imagine my surprise when he came with his brother, who was striking in his own way, and his father to talk to my Father.

I had nothing to say except I kept thinking about KS. I couldn’t wait to get out of the beautiful trap and tell him how this incredibly fine boy wanted me and how my parents were rooting for it. Silence made up for all the things that needed to be said. Then he walked into my dark room and in gradual speed extracted all the truth out of me. He decided to walk away at the unraveling of a ‘startling’ fact that I have someone else in mind. I begged him not to tell my Father and I don’t think he conformed. I’m not sure, but I remember being terrified at the thought of confronting my parents.

I woke up realizing how I had been lying to myself all these time telling myself that my biggest fear was mediocrity when there’s always been something else under the rug.

Au Revoir

My Father would always buy me anything I wanted and I always wanted Barbie dolls from Mattel.

I like my eyes shielded in makeup, my lips always painted Red, and a set of enormous earrings dangling down my little ears.

I like wearing dresses and heels, but the last thing I am is Fake.

When his flight got rescheduled and almost likely to be cancelled for the next 10 days I told him I was relieved.

Very selfish, Very me.

When he finally flew against all odds I got an abrupt text message.

I coerced a smile through the morbid feeling.

Brutal honesty gets you flattered as being the best girlfriend, who knew?