Numb

This morning, I woke up to a text. He met someone else. This should have left me feeling broken. And I don’t know what’s worse:

the fact that it was that easy for people to leave me or that I did not feel anything at all.

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It’s never the same love after the breakup

I was going through my books tonight, looking for something to read, when I found Rupi Kaur’s The Sun and Her Flowers. And when I opened it, this note left me staring at it for a long time.

I used to count the days after the breakup. I used to write short poems everyday to “put into paper” how I felt. It was my therapy. I made it to 100 before I finally decided to stop and now, I don’t have the exact number of days in my mind anymore. But, yeah, it’s been almost 6 months.

I ask myself if it still hurts. Yes, it still does. Looking at him. Talking to him. Not talking to him. Knowing that we’re over for good. Allowing myself to believe that I don’t need him at all. Knowing that I will be okay. Knowing that I am not okay. Yes, it hurts a lot. But knowing that this pain today will be replaced with so much healing one day, well… it’s what keeps me going.

I ask myself if I still miss him. Yes, I do. Everyday. The memories are so alive and so real that sometimes they swallow me. And sometimes, when I wasn’t being careful, I would let myself believe that I still love him.

I ask myself if it’s still love. No, it’s not. It’s missing and it’s longing, but it doesn’t take much to convince myself that it’s not love anymore.

I ask myself if I regret it. No, I don’ t. I may not be happy now, and I may still cry whenever I miss him so badly, but I have to remind myself that no matter how lovely our memories were, I had a reason why I ended it. And though I couldn’t anymore remember why I decided to end it, I know to myself I didn’t do it in impulse. I knew I was sadder and emptier then compared to now. And no matter how difficult it was to rebuild myself after feeling broken, I wouldn’t trade that choice for anything else in the world.

I ask myself if he’s still my Sun. I could only laugh! So silly of me to find sunshine from another person when I’ve been my own sparkle all along!

The biggest lesson I’ve learned in this process is perhaps learning how to forgive myself for not taking care of my inner peace enough. For blaming the other person for my own heartbreak. For thinking that I wasn’t good enough. For actually believing that I needed him more than I needed myself.

I could only look at him now with longing. But, at the very least, I can look at myself in the mirror and be proud. 🧑

Supernova

As stars age,Β they explode into a supernovaΒ and turn into blackholes,Β sucking everything from existence.

That’s what it’s likeΒ to like you so much, feelings piling on top of another, adding age to this secret.Β 

And if untold,it might turn into an explosion, ruining everything.Β 

And entirely losing a friend.

This is where we Part

This is where we part
in this small stretch of gravel
in-between the school gate and the concrete road,
where all the metaphors of my feelings for you collide
where goodbyes are said without eyes meeting
where I don’t bother looking back because I knew you wouldn’t either
where 4:45 pm ends my day instead of 12 in the midnight
where my day-long smile turns to a pathetic sad frown.

This is where we part
in this small stretch of gravel
where all the sugary glances magically end.
Every single day, I struggle
between going home to rest my body
and going with you just to add more hours to the day.
Some days, my mind overpowers my heart
and gives the rest my body deserves.
But most days, my heart goes all out
and doesn’t mind the two late extra hours if it meant spending it with you.

I broke my rules for you.
And I know how 10 months ago I swore to myself that you’re the one;
I know how the past 10 months was filled with spark between glances and unsaid words in-between jokes;
I know how I filled the past 10 months with optimism, holding on to the possibility of us.
But, I’m sorry, this is where we part.

I loved you.
Believe me, I did.
You have no idea how many nights you have rendered me sleepless;
how many pages I have filled with my handwriting,
trying to put into words the feelings I have for you;
how many deep breaths I’ve taken,
trying to reel everything in just so I’d stop myself from spilling over;
how many Saturdays and Sundays I have hated,
always waiting for Mondays and wanting Fridays to last even longer.

I loved you.
Believe me, I did.
At times, I was able to fool myself that you felt the same way.
Every time you waited for me and walked with me
Every time you laughed with me and talked to me
Every time you listened to my favorite playlists.
On days like those, I would cover myself with blind optimism and decide to give you all my love.
Even when you don’t text first,
Even when your replies are so short
Even when you never change your schedule just to fit mine,
I still chose to give you my love.

I loved you.
Believe me, I did.
But it is not your fault that I chose to stop.
One day, I just wondered how it was possible to look at you and feel bad about myself.
I looked at you and suddenly I realized that you are your own person and I am mine.
I looked at you and realized that you are a man and if you ever liked me, you would’ve already said it.
That day, I looked at you and realized that I was still making the same stupid mistake of falling for a really good friend.

So, my friend, this is where we part.
In this small stretch of gravel
in-between the school gate and the concrete road,
I set myself free
from expecting anything from you.
I set myself free from all the drama.
I set myself free from hoping too much.
I could choose to pave a new road for us,
but for now, my body needs my brain and my heart whole.
So, I’m sorry.
But this is where we part.

When the Heart Stops

I wish there was a prelude to this.
Even just a small signpost that says,
“Stop. You are three days close to destruction.”
I wish I didn’t have to wake up unarmed,
surprised by the sudden emptiness inside,
rendered speechless to feel this gaping hole in my heart.

This is not me losing all my feelings for him.
This is me giving up.
But “giving up” seems like a term that could not compare to the weight of the black hole in my insides
so I’d like to say
that this is me letting go.

Letting go of hopes.
Letting go of the possibilities.
Letting go of the future pain.

I choose to stop before it gets worse.
It pains me now,
but if I choose to hold on to this no-label relationship,
it will pain me more to reach the dead end.

This is my fear getting in the way.
This is my fear trying to save my heart.

At 21

At 21, I’ve learned to get out of my comfort zone
and to feel grateful
to everyone who has helped me
and hurt me
and made me learn my lessons.

At 21, I’ve learned to trust my instinct
and to be brave
when my choice leads to failure.

At 21, I’ve learned
that the world is not filled
with sunshines and sparkles
and sugar and stardust;
but it was also at that age
that I learned not to hate.

At 21, I’ve learned
that I should not hate myself
for still making the same mistake twice;
that the Prince Charmings I’ve come to know
can sometimes be the villains to my story.

At 21, I’ve learned
that life is still a maze
of insecurities and confusions;
but being 21 also taught me
that it’s okay to still feel lost.

It has been a meaningful year,
filled with laughter and pain
and, sometimes, regrets;
but it was also the year
that I discovered bravery and optimism.

One thing is for sure:
at 21,
I did things
that my 22-year old self will thank me for.