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Written on 1-Jul-2008

18 Nov

I’m 18 and in two months will turn 19. So it won’t be a surprise if I say that just like other guys and girls, I have fallen in love – or infatuated for that matter. Oh what the heck. From the dictionary we know how the two differ by definition, but in reality, there is not much detail to tell how it can be distinguished just by going through it. People at my age will understand me word by word and others may not, but I’m writing this at least to reach out and maybe inspire those who get to read this. My friends, brothers and cousins may see this post but not my parents. They’re the least to know. I know they had ideas but I’m just not the kind of daughter who would open up to them as much as I do to others. They may know, ok, but not from me. Nevertheless, I never told them about anything that has to do with these mushy stuff because I wasn’t sure if the relationship will be the last I would ever be in. I wanted to be like my brothers, bringing a single person to this house and eventually getting married. Don’t get me wrong. My head is too far from thinking of settling down.
The truth is, I’m bitter and I’m not gonna lie about it or hide it. Half of the time I’m online I’m writing this, the other half I’m searching for mobile themes and song lyrics that showed how I feel. Right now I act like a sore loser. A couple of nights passed that I just stared blankly at the ceiling. I never thought this could happen in real life. For all I know, what I’m going through are just lines from songs and scenes from movies. This isn’t the first time I’ve had my heart broken. In fact, I’ve been through this a lot of times and somehow I just got tired of wondering and asking why it has to happen and why me.
From my previous post I mentioned about losing passion for writing after losing the one subject I wrote about, and that was someone from my past. It was a two-year relationship that I thought would last, but didn’t. It took me a long time (I couldn’t even remember how long) to get over it, to get over him. But see, I did. So it shouldn’t be hard to forget a two-week relationship. Yes, two weeks. I don’t even understand why I grieve for something as short as that. But in my head I contemplate, and maybe I do know why. I just don’t want to admit it. I feel like shit because I couldn’t accept the fact that it was something we had one day and lost the other, without me even knowing about it. It was more painful than a two-year relationship that ended with a goodbye – because it never had a real ending.
My friends tell me, “Be strong.”, “Move on.”, “He’s not worth it.” I know. Those were the same words I’ve been telling myself over and over again. Then I told one of them in despair of uplifting my spirit, “Kilala mo ‘ko. Hindi ako ganito. Hindi ko lang siguro matanggap na naunahan niya ‘ko. Haha.” and he would answer, “Nachambahan ka lang nun. Kalimutan mo na. Tulungan mo sarili mo. Hindi siya karapat-dapat.” I’m trying my best to forget him, but still there’s a question left in me that has never been answered. Is it really over?
In times like this that I feel broken, I look back on my first heartbreak, and tell myself this is not the worst I’ve gone through and I will get through this just like any other non-constant love affair. So if any one of you is under emotional stress, remember this post that I wrote. I know I may never know you, I may never be of great help to you, but at least I may have inspired you to continue to live. Life is too short to waste on the wrong things and unworthy feelings. Love yourself as much as you are willing to love others. Most importantly, remember to forget and forget to remember.

 
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Posted by on November 18, 2008 in Healing Oneself

 

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