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