Wanting someone to make you happy

“As long as you have these wants, this habit of wanting something, especially wanting someone or something to make you happy. Paradoxically, this is a sure way to make yourself miserable. That happiness is placed outside. That a relationship or being in a right job or passing whatever things you need to pass through will bring you to this place is already an ill-conceived notion,” says Mooji.

So what is happiness? Because some of you might be saying “I don’t know what I want” or that you are still looking for this elusive source of happiness or you are confused about the things that would make you happy. Mooji says, “Then why should you want something? Can’t you be without ‘want’? Is it a state of deficiency or something?”

There is no need to live in a world of want because it doesn’t make you happy, he adds. “But it does not mean without need, without wants that the life stops. They are not working for happiness.”

If you ask yourself, “What do you want or what do you think you should want?” and there is no answer, perhaps you really don’t need or want anything at all. The problems that you think you have and are plaguing you non-stop are possibly not problems at all. That’s the trouble most people face, they don’t know what they want and I’m constantly guilty of having this problem.

“So if you don’t know what you want, what is the purpose of want? Except that it is a feeling that I should want something because everybody else has a want, or you may substitute the word ‘want’ for ‘dream’ or some state that is beautiful,” says Mooji.

Suppose you have always wanted this person, you want her so bad that you think she would make you happy, so as long as you want her, a relationship with her, you are never really available for anything else. Every time, you are talking, it is just this want for her. Your mind is focused on satisfying your desire but there is no joy in wanting this person. You feel if you get her, you would be so happy but there is no happiness in this.

“As long as you have a desire, you are being tormented by this desire. Why? Because you don’t get it, you are miserable. All your energy is waiting and trying to fulfil your desire.” says Mooji. “When you get this object you desire, you feel tremendous happiness. But the thing didn’t give you happiness. Your desire was agitating you, troubling you. When you get the thing, the agitation stops and it’s the relief from the agitation that you are interpreting as the joy you’re receiving. You are enjoying the freedom from the desire to have it.”

Which means once I remove this desire that you will return to me or that I would be happy as long as you are back in my arms and I’d be free. That, my friend, is true happiness.


Back to square one

So I accidentally, no not really, more like intentionally logged onto the social media sites I had semi-swore nine days ago never to view as long as my heart remains broken. Ten minutes later, I just wished I could turn back time and stopped myself from reading the updates because I read something I probably shouldn’t have seen.

My excuse is that I have itchy fingers and eyes. Still, it’s painful. Sometimes… total ignorance is indeed bliss. Because the sadness that enveloped me after I read your updates made my hands tremble and cramped up. I couldn’t stop shaking. It was so hard to breathe nice and slow without letting the pain flash across my face.

This is an illogical sadness I can’t explain. If you know what I mean, but why would you. It’s not like you’re going through this ridiculously long heartbreak since you are clearly moving on. Going out on late night dates, planning dates, … I can’t even continue writing without getting gutted all over again.

This concept of being genuinely happy for someone is still relatively new to me.


Savour the taste of healing

It had been something of a revelation these past few days. Without any prior warning or anything, this feeling just crept in and blanketed me, not with the spidey powers I’ve always wanted but a sense of calm, which was equally, if not more, welcome*. When I felt it, it took me awhile to savour this rather new sensation before I finally acknowledged its presence.

I had to swirl it in my mouth like a sip of fine Cabernet Merlot, rolling it around with my tongue and let the taste buds have their way with it. Was there a tinge of bitterness like some wine which has been oak-barrelled for a tad too long? Not really. Was there a hint of fruity aroma like a ladies’ drink? Not really either. Neither was it totally bland like diluted Ribena. It was like a bottle of house red vintage 2007 that should be drank immediately and not a moment too soon.

Anyway, my response to it was “Huh”. Not a questioning “Huh?” or a retarded dragged out “Huuuuuuuuh?!” but an “I certainly didn’t expect this but I think I quite like the taste of the healing process” Huh. As you can imagine, it’s rather refreshing to know that somehow I have reached the Promised Land without even realising it. Someone had turned the lights on for me and the view outside isn’t that bad after all.

But what had helped me? That would be the “Are you smarter than a fifth grader?” question. The last letter I wrote to you was definitely a catalyst. Next, I put my faith and trust in the Universe. I also found it in myself to genuinely wish you well. The decision to stay away from all social media networks, although I did plurked for the last time to wish you a good long weekend before I left on Friday, was another one. And I kept my word. I didn’t log in to read or update anything. I stuck to my basic Internet needs such as football scores and the daily media reads.

But this morning, I did have a lucid dream nightmare of some sort. I dreamt that I went to check on those social media sites and read your updates and I found myself locked out from them and I am no longer privy to your life. That made me gasped out loud. Immediately though, calm settled in and logic told me, “Well, I have lived perfectly fine the last few days, relieved and carefree even, without any unhealthy thoughts. Why be bothered about something that never had and shouldn’t have anything to do with me and will have no effect on me now or my future?”

I think I’ve grown up. So much so that I’m no longer reliant on the social network tools and when the thought came to me this morning that I can probably check the updates this morning, I waved it off. Neither do I want to do so in the evening before I get off work. I want to go home, without a care of the unhappy stuff in the world. Thank you, Universe.

*The sense of calm also made me realised writing non-stop about this depressing heartbreak of mine for most of the past one year is really making this blog look worse than an emo punk rocker. Who the hell, other than me, would want to read on? So I’m sticking to cheerier stuff like what I had for lunch. Always a popular read, that one.


There is a pain in my heart I can’t correct

You once plurked in French, “Il y a une douleur à mon coeur que je ne peux pas corriger.” It means “There is a pain in my heart I can’t correct.”

When I read it, my broken heart broke once more. Because what I wanted to do so badly then was to call you and tell you I feel the very same way and that a part of me seemed to have lost its way home. But I didn’t. Because every one of my friends told me I need to leave you alone. The more I try to get in touch with you, the more you’d drift further away from me. So I held on.

Months later, I want to tell you the very same thing you once plurked. There is a pain in my heart I can’t correct. And as much as I’m hurting inside, I know just as well, you don’t need to know that. Is this what everyone who has had their hearts broken and lived to tell the tale feels?

The need for acceptance. The need to understand when the one you claim to love is moving on in all ways possible, be happy for her, knowing she would be in a better place and in better hands.

When a relationship falls apart, there has to be reasons and both parties have a hand in it. Yet it takes such a long time to convince yourself the split is for the better. What I do know is when you came back with a second chance for me, I didn’t grasp it with both hands tightly. Even though, I had spent months before listing the ways I’d make you happy if you are mine once more.

Who’d have expected my severe insecurity, jealousy and inquisitiveness to reach an insane high level from the period of time we were apart. Certainly, not me. Still, I allowed these unhealthy emotions to play havoc in my mind. And with that lack of self-restraint over my sanity, I broke the window of opportunity once more. I didn’t fully appreciate the long bumpy journey we had taken and still managed to get to this cross junction again.

Sometimes, life’s like that. When you miss the opportunity in that moment, it will never happen again. Because the moment for both of us has passed and even if I keep obsessing about my regret, I have to understand it was partly, or rather, mainly my fault for driving you away. That I couldn’t give what you wanted or needed from me. That I couldn’t live up to the promise I made to you. That I kept harping on the past. That I couldn’t see what was more important for both of us and focus on that. Until it was once again too late.

Life has to go on, no doubt. After all, I’m only in my mid twenties. Like what a wise elder once told me, there is still a long journey ahead of me and I have to carry on living even though I carry with me despair. And a heart I cannot repair. Not yet, at least.

During the last one year, I had read plenty of self-help books on life, on repairing relationships, on love, on hopes, trying to find the inner peace I need desperately to maintain my insanity. The wise elder told me to lead a simple life – be content with what I have, keep my head down, stay in my job, enjoy the comforts and the security of home, stop thinking of what has yet come to pass. After all, a day lived is a day over.

I told him I want to but it’s so hard when I go home, alone and surrounded by four walls and a tear soaked pillow. He told me I was being silly and you are not the right one for me if you were causing me so much pain. You were messing with my head, he said. And you were just stringing me along and if I let myself back into this, nothing good will come out of it and my life would be a downward spiral and I would never be able to pick myself up. Because how much can I give you and how much would ever be enough for you? Maybe it was what he told me that led my unconscious mind to doubt your sincerity to start all over again the second time, even though I had no idea what he meant.

Likewise, if you had felt so much pain over me and I had given you so much grief, then I mustn’t be the right one for you as well. So wouldn’t it be better if we can move on from here and be friends? My heart disagrees but my head tells me the wise elder is right. I have to move on.

The fog in my head is clearing up. I’m much calmer now than when I started writing this letter half an hour ago. I’m slowly moving into the acceptance stage. Maybe one day, someone you know or perhaps even you yourself would come across these letters I have written to you over the last one year. And maybe a moment of sadness might occur. But it will pass.

Because life’s like that. There is always tomorrow to look forward to. Be happy always in whatever you do. As long as you’re happy, nothing else really matters.

Goodbye and I love you, Squishy, Donut, the girl whom I once had the greatest and most enjoyable conversations over bottles of red wine, whiskey sodas, apricot brandy 7up, Kronenbourg 1664 Blanc beer and bloody Marys with.


18 Sep. 09


Listening: Photo Booth by Ola Podrida

This is so good that you just have to make it your soundtrack for today. Nothing can be more glorious than bobbing your head along to the tune on Friday, with little care in the world. Not even the piling emails in the inbox or number of articles to write or recordings to transcribe can stop me from pressing the replay button on this video. It is that good. Try it.


The scent of you

You know, even though you are no longer by my side, the scent of you would still catch me unaware at times. My head would turn towards you, hoping to take another whiff, comforted by the fact that you are still using the fragrance which was my gift to you.

Perhaps it’s silly, perhaps I’m imagining things. But the trail of your perfume helps me to hold onto the possibility that you are still using the stuff I gave you. It was one of the last things we share in common. That a tiny part of me is still lodged firmly somewhere in your heart and maybe, if given enough time, you would realise I’m still here and still in love you. Which I suppose is improbable because I haven’t been speaking or communicating with you at all. Still, I hold on to that scent because what else do we live for, if not for hope.

Little did I know, when you walked past me and when I could no longer notice that familiar scent you wear on you every time, numbness would enfold me. It’s like you have once again made another step forward, casting off the memories and gifts which were holding you back. Often, I suspect it’s my ego speaking when I think you are still bothered about me, or even care about what I do, just for a tiny bit.

The truth is my updates are probably something you have stopped look out for. So I’ve stopped. Since yesterday when I last said the rain always makes me think of the snuggles and cuddles. I didn’t add that it reminded of you obviously because that would be silly and more likely frighten you off, than make you swoon.

So I made a decision to stop my social media updates and interaction. Because I can’t bear to delete you away, to completely erase you off my life forever, to lose even that last bit of you. Yet I can’t read or know any more of your life that no longer has me in it. To know any further, or to know you might even be creating a new life with someone else, or that you have made another step away from me. Or to know when you laugh now, it’s not because I made you laugh but because of someone else. That’s something I want to be ignorant about. At least, for now. Until my heart heals.

I hope you are happy or in love, maybe even both. After all, if I love you as much as I have been saying or thinking this whole time, I should be happy when you’re happy.


Why does it hurt so bad?

I don’t think you would ever know the extent of my heartbreak because it’s not like you’d ever read this. But yesterday, when I realised you have moved on, my heart literally hurt and I’m never the dramatic sort. The pain I felt then was so acute. My heart felt so strange and tight that I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my hands cramping up and it was all I could do to use all of my inner strength to not cry at work.

My mate Q said to me later that night that my heart had felt something profound upon that realisation so my heart muscles had contracted to protect it. “That’s Love.”

Guess my body was protecting my heart from breaking further and that it loves me and I have to be strong. Q explained the tightness from the muscle contraction occured so it could protect me from feeling more sadness. “It’s a sign to you  that it’s hurting and to switch your thought!!”

But I don’t know what to think any more. I know I probably should have let you go a long time ago. Even my mates have told me so. Yet I still harbour hopes of us getting back together. Silly, I know. In my defence, love is blind, or so I would like to think. Feel free to tell me I’m utterly wrong.

I thought ignoring you and blocking you off any social networks would help me heal and move on at a faster pace. Turns out my fingers are itchy buggers and I still couldn’t resist clicking on your updates to see how you are. It’s weird that I don’t reply to any of your updates while there is this person who continuously show care and concern for you. Maybe that’s what you have been seeking.  Maybe that’s your way of showing you are moving on. To show you are completely resolute in ending us. And you are ready to start dating new people.

What hurts most is you acknowledge the pet name given to you and you know this person wants to be with you and you aren’t turned off by it, whereas you have classified me under the “psycho ex” category and want nothing to do with me.

Maybe I’m just envious of your ability to look ahead. Or that you have plenty of potential partners who want to sweep you off your feet. Maybe if I have a similar distraction, I wouldn’t have been so bothered. Truth is these are “maybes” and I’m not interested in anyone but you. Which probably doesn’t bode well for my well-being because I keep thinking that if I hover around this potential “maybe”, you might change your mind and one day, reply to my last text to you.

Yet you’ve probably deleted all my texts off your phone whereas I am still hanging on to this misaligned hope. To think I was doing so well together by staying clear from any potential updates from you. But it’s the hardest when you’re back home, alone in your room. The silence just becomes more deafening because you can hear your heart breaking into pieces and there’s nothing you can do but weep. I feel like such a loser really.

I surrender myself completely to the Universe. I let myself free in your arms. Take this burden off me. I trust in you to know and bring me what’s right for me. Help me.


Listening: Someday we’ll be together

Ever, ever, ever since that day… Seriously though, now all I wanna do is cry, cry into my effing pillow on a humid Sunday afternoon when I should be out enjoying myself and having the time of my life. Instead, I’m thinking of more ways to add another emotional wound to myself. If there’s only one thing you can ever hope to learn about love from this blog of mine, just know this. My number one top tip to never ever do when you’re alone at home and still recovering from a massive heartbreak. Stay away from the effing Internet.

Still, it’s a lovely song by Diana Ross & The Supremes. Nice opening.


That doggie in the window

So really, I’ve been hearing that song since oh I don’t know when I was young and still, no one has ever told me how much was that doggie in the window. The song just goes on and on. Bit annoying really.

But if you happen to know the price tag of the dog, please let me know. After all, that poor dog has been in that window display for ages. Surely, its value has depreciated over time, no? Maybe I can finally get a pet dog for cheap.

Anyway, sleep is becoming a distant memory for me these days, what with the intense amount of words I have to churn out within a short period of time. Oh, the need for coherent and sensible writing when you are hardly awake enough to type is excruciating. Yes, I know it’s partly my fault because I have been so lazy but criticising me now won’t do anyone any good, innit.

I will of course attempt to finally complete the last few hundred words of the feature now, instead of getting distracted by the delights the wondrous Internet has to offer. Talk later.


Good ol’ soul food

My heart is breaking and I’m letting it break completely until it can shatter no more because I read somewhere that it would be good for my soul. And hopefully, it’d be good for my mental well-being too. Because right now, yes at this very moment, I’m going nuts. Inside my head obviously. I’d look silly if I have a public breakdown in the office.

You see, I’m still finding it hard to compartmentalise my emotions and my thoughts that has nothing to do with work. I can’t write, not even with the deadline staring ominously in my face. I’m staring at a bunch of notes and I think those words are reading me instead of me reading them.

God, this is turning out to be a fab party innit. Sorry for whining, that is if you guys are still reading. Wait, why should I care. This is my blog where everyone is entitled to my opinion only. But yeah, I sure know how to make myself unlovable. Right, those of you who are still here, a big if though, please send some positive vibes over. Much appreciated.

Anyway, I can’t really speak to anyone who is like an actual human being now because first, I know talking it out loud will only intensify my fears and sadness. Second, even if I talk to someone, they are going to tell me the same old stuff which I already know it by heart. Lastly, everyone I know is currently at work and busy, therefore entertaining me is out of the question.

The worse part is I’m trying not to over-think or analyse whatever you are doing or who are you meeting or talking to because I’m finding it hard to breathe. But my mind keeps creeping over to the questions I’m struggling to not wonder or ask at all. I know though, I’m the only person making myself feel like shite and allowing you to be cruel to me so yeah, I’m the only one who can make myself feel better.

Breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe, sad, breathe. Guess what, I do feel better now. Yay.