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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.

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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.

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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.

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I miss you like hell

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

It’s been 34 nights since you told me with a finality in your voice you no longer see a future with me.

9 months 14 days and the distance between us remains wider than ever.

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Chicken wing tips

I had plenty of meals with chicken wings recently that it was almost impossible to not think of you whenever I was left with the chicken wing tip. It’s your favourite part of the chicken. I remember leaving you the tips whenever we have fried chicken. Because that’s how I show my love even if I hardly say it.

Now the chicken wing tips are everywhere, no doubt waiting for me to devour them with no mercy. Yet, I find myself unable to do so. Instead, I would leave them aside. I want the days when we would sit side by side again eating fried chicken, me devouring the wings and you taking care of their tips.

You micro-blogged yesterday night that you were inspired by a conversation with a very contented 60-year old and that’s what you want your life to be when you’re his age. I want you to be content too.

The universe will know when I am ready, and when I am, all these good things like true love, friendship, abundance of wealth will happen, unexpectedly. Hey Universe, I’m ready. Give me a definite sign, let me know if there is anything I can do to, you know, help move things along.

Thank you.

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Who’s more than a footballer

Guardian Football’s blog recalls some of football’s finest six volleys of all time and Eric Cantona’s goal in Manchester United’s match against Wimbledon was ranked third. And what a cracker that was.

According to Rob Smyth, a sports writer for the UK paper [and probably a United fan like me]:

The volley is widely perceived as the hardest skill in football, but the flip side of that difficulty is that it is the perfect tool with which to demonstrate your superiority, as Eric Cantona showed at Selhurst Park in 1994.

Early on [in the game], Vinnie Jones piled in with a laughable and predictable reducer; Cantona simply looked Jones up and down with the sort of magisterial contempt that only he could muster, and then, just before half-time, showed how you really hurt someone on a football field.

Gary Elkins made his only contribution to football history by heading Denis Irwin’s long cross to the edge of the box, whereupon Cantona killed the ball with a velvety touch and then leathered it beyond Hans Segers. It was a perfectly unanswerable piece of skill that broke Wimbledon, who had been in the game until then, completely.

He might not have been the greatest overseas player in English football history – the quality of the game in this country has increased so much in the last 15 years – but nobody has been so superior to his peers. And nobody knew how to demonstrate that superiority in such a regal manner. This was not a footballer; this was Cantona.

That’s right. All hail Le King.

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Untying my mind’s Gordian knot

Today, I am finding it hard to let go of this Gordian knot which is shaped like you. Unfortunately. It seems like you have told the whole world where you’re off to for your holiday except me. Not that you have any obligation to but it would have been nice, you know. But no…

After what had felt like an eternity, I thought hey I can do this, I can let you go and I can be free. And I did, well … in yesterday’s post at least. At that moment when I pressed “publish” to send the post out, it was a cathartic release for me. But you know, it’s been a long war and the end doesn’t seem to be in sight. Because in this war, the enemy is me and damn, I’m an excellent commander of the rebel forces. No high water or hell fire can stop me.

Still, I fought hard, so hard to quell down my insecurity about you and the new people you meet. Yet it seems you have once again found someone else to share your joy, sorrow, anger and daily life with. This tightening knot is making it hard for me to breathe. I did stop myself from overanalysing the whys, the how, the when but I’m only human. And since you have read till here, why not be nice and continue on. You know you want to.

When you posted on the micro-blogging site on Sunday that you are a proud godma because the baby just took her first step, I was really pleased for you and your family. It made me smile and I wasn’t sure if I should reply. So I just left it. Then within an hour, this person replied, mentioning the baby’s name and the fact that she likes playing with the remote control. The emergency siren in me rang so loud, people ten streets away were screaming, “Shut the fuck up, whiner. People are trying to sleep here.”

Well yes, I was shocked. Wouldn’t you be? Flabbergasted really as to how this person, who seem so random and who you have claimed once that you were acquaintances, knew so much intimate details about your family. But here’s the kicker, you deleted that very same post within 15 minutes of that reply. You obviously have something to hide and that got my undies in a twist.

I told G about it and here’s what she said, “She’s a cunning and manipulative bitch. Forget about her. Stop wasting your time.”

See why I found it so hard to trust you completely when you wanted us to get back together. Even though you insisted that you had nothing going on with anyone, your behaviour doesn’t exactly imbue me with confidence. Which was something I badly needed then. And it’s not that I enjoy objectifying my fears and insecurities. I want to be happy, not worrying about things I have no control over. And before you think I’m nuts, I know what you do or who you talk to or choose to share intimate details with has nothing to do with me anymore. Obviously.

For those of you enjoying this monologue, please feel free to chip in anytime. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out. Go on, say something ANYTHING before I pull the rest of my eyebrows out.

Maybe, if I see you again, I’d congratulate you on the baby taking her first step. Oh, by the way, I know you deleted that post. Just to see your horrified face. HA!

But I mustn’t. I trust that everything in the Universe happens for a reason, and it will benefit me in the long run, even if I CAN’T QUITE SEE THE BENEFITS NOW. Even if I feel like my heart is still breaking into pieces, I want to be kind.

Because loving you means deleting the nasty list of things I want to say to you for not being upfront, for hurting me, for staying away from me and instead just letting you know, have a good vacation.