The first stage is denial.
Sometimes knowing is not necessarily the best option. Unless of course, your hobbies include meddling around with emotions, primarily lingering around multiple shots of pain. Cut to the chase, some emotions just happen to lack mutuality. I should have known it from the start, amidst the abundant foreshadowing. But foolishness blinded me and twisted my logic as delusion suggested that maybe opposites attract. And so blindly I let myself into the night, thinking I can find my way back, thinking I know where I am.
On the other hand, it does clear some doubt as to which direction I have to walk to. Not to follow my heart and take the path wide yet winding, overcrowded yet flowing, inconsistent yet roughly smooth, long yet agonisingly scenic, but to follow my mind, and take the narrow, empty, rough and short path. I must admit that a civil war broke out in my mind, and for many weeks I was troubled, confused, and uncertain. My consciousness was divided, and my heart was not at peace. Yet I drew a certain comfort in fantasy. I do not eat, I do not sleep, I do nothing but think of you. Lies were the foundation of my refuge.
As the proverb goes, the wind blows and the waves crash, and the house built upon the sand crumbles down, and disappears like chaff in the wind. I would most definitely like to think of it as simply a little setback, that as quickly as it left it shall be rebuilt again. But I do know that some things are simply not worth fighting for, especially when done alone. Hitler could not have survived if every single German soul had turned their back towards him.
The second stage is anger.
I clearly remember telling myself that if I failed on Jay, I would quit trying on any other girl. That I would resign to solitude, and respect the promises of abstinence that I have made with the world. I know clearly that that was not entirely a smart decision, as there are many fish in the sea, but then again the polarities of my mind radiate boldly, with the rude challenge that love should be unconditional, even past mutuality. I believe a portion of that decision accepted due to the mysterious cloud in my mind, obstructing my understanding of life and survival, as seen in my "one chance only" mentality.
And she was different. I knew that I wanted to endure her hardships, to feel her pain, to understand her setbacks, and to listen to her grievances. With her around, I lose track of my surroundings; where we have been, what I have said, how long we have taken. With her around, I lose track of myself; what I have been thinking, how I think, why I feel. I often doubt, but I would definitely like to believe that she did show signs of interest, which immediately set me going. She made me feel like I had not a care in the world. She made me feel like I was not living in a messed up world, and that hidden in the nooks and crannies, in the depths and crevices of the world, glimmers of goodness still exist. She was far from perfect, but infatuation has a thing for finding the blindest most queer form of attraction in imperfections. I did not particularly changed my method with my past experiences, except learning from previous mistakes and trying to be more outspoken this time round.
I have always wanted to know more about her, so I held back no effort. I ensured that distance was maintained, that timing was appropriate, and that the only way she could tell of my desperation was from the choice of my words or through the betrayal from selected mutual contacts. I must admit it was draining, but definitely rewarding to make her feel as if she had a virtual pair of ears that she could pour her troubles, her insecurities, and her feelings into. Of course she did not do that just, we had hardly even known each other too well for that, but inch by inch I was getting closer to my goal: to make her feel happy, regardless of the world around her, even me.
The third stage is bargaining.
It has been five days, and every day I tell myself that maybe it is all a mistake. Maybe it was all her clever cunningly conceived plan to deceive me, and to question me of my true dedication. Maybe it was all a brilliant test of intelligence, that despite her general naïvety all along, it showed that she had a side of depth that she simply had not shown me yet. Maybe it was all a lie, and that she just was simply not mentally and emotionally ready to commit to someone she was merely getting closer to. Maybe I'm dreaming, and that it all never really happened. Maybe she was just five steps ahead of me and wanted to let me know that.
As the circus of my mind prepares for the ultimate showdown performance, performers such as emotions, thoughts, and actions go through the final sequence. Rehearsals have been completed days ago, and everyone is excited for the big performance. All has to be at the right place at the right time, and the performance will be a resplendent spectacle. Slowly the clock ticks down, and a row of stage performers unanimously line up, adrenaline racing and stoked for the big day. As the emcee ushers in the first wave of performers, emotions steps out into the podium. Throbbing hearts and palpitating pulses are all over backstage. Abruptly, a gasp from the audiences could be heard. Backstage, every heart stopped dead in its tracks. As quickly as it came, the silence left, followed by a resounding cheer and an astounding applause, followed by a great laughter. Emotions probably messed up, but to a comedic effect. Maybe that is just what it is. A failing circus performance, an entertaining joke.
The fourth stage is depression.
I am guilty of taking it hard on myself. Or maybe it is just in a fit of guilt due to self-accused selfishness. If love is for selfish gain, what lasting eternal value does it have to offer you? For ultimately you leave behind but the remnants of your once revered achievements with the forsaken glory of brighter days. And yet I keep finding my tail caught in between the mousetrap of self-fulfilment, lulled in by the temptation of pleasure and satisfaction. Guilt aggravated by the constant repetitive bombardment from the warped mentality and hideous ideologies of this wretched society, and its uncanny opinion towards romance, which they so blatantly dub as love.
If I could turn back the hands of time and change something, I would definitely make amends in my speech, such that I would avoid the whole conversation altogether. More often than not, the general perception on knowledge is that it is a staple diet of our very humanity. But time and time again, knowledge pulls a fast one and stabs you deep in the back, and you wonder why knowledge of this form even exists, when people ask you to seek knowledge for it will grow you. Pain comes instantaneously, and regret follows suit. You regret the wrongdoings and mishaps that you know are not even your fault. Sometimes, it is just better not to know.
The final stage is acceptance.
Maybe the world has misunderstood the concept of love. Maybe love and passion are on different scales. Maybe love is meant to be manifested to those whom you detest. Maybe love is not romance after all. I am trying to adopt a slightly radical view towards the concept of love. So long as romance is included in the picture, I will question my motives and reconsider my actions, and with every ounce of effort try to ensure that my actions and reactions will be largely platonic in nature.
I will still take this experience as my personal failure, and out of sheer stubbornness and defiance, abstain from any experience of romance that I feel only provides personal satisfaction. Of which purpose I feel is too shallow. As for her, she will always be deeply etched in the inner recesses of my mind, as she has always been since the first day I met her.
I honestly do not know if I will even be able to let her go.
Sometimes knowing is not necessarily the best option. Unless of course, your hobbies include meddling around with emotions, primarily lingering around multiple shots of pain. Cut to the chase, some emotions just happen to lack mutuality. I should have known it from the start, amidst the abundant foreshadowing. But foolishness blinded me and twisted my logic as delusion suggested that maybe opposites attract. And so blindly I let myself into the night, thinking I can find my way back, thinking I know where I am.
On the other hand, it does clear some doubt as to which direction I have to walk to. Not to follow my heart and take the path wide yet winding, overcrowded yet flowing, inconsistent yet roughly smooth, long yet agonisingly scenic, but to follow my mind, and take the narrow, empty, rough and short path. I must admit that a civil war broke out in my mind, and for many weeks I was troubled, confused, and uncertain. My consciousness was divided, and my heart was not at peace. Yet I drew a certain comfort in fantasy. I do not eat, I do not sleep, I do nothing but think of you. Lies were the foundation of my refuge.
As the proverb goes, the wind blows and the waves crash, and the house built upon the sand crumbles down, and disappears like chaff in the wind. I would most definitely like to think of it as simply a little setback, that as quickly as it left it shall be rebuilt again. But I do know that some things are simply not worth fighting for, especially when done alone. Hitler could not have survived if every single German soul had turned their back towards him.
The second stage is anger.
I clearly remember telling myself that if I failed on Jay, I would quit trying on any other girl. That I would resign to solitude, and respect the promises of abstinence that I have made with the world. I know clearly that that was not entirely a smart decision, as there are many fish in the sea, but then again the polarities of my mind radiate boldly, with the rude challenge that love should be unconditional, even past mutuality. I believe a portion of that decision accepted due to the mysterious cloud in my mind, obstructing my understanding of life and survival, as seen in my "one chance only" mentality.
And she was different. I knew that I wanted to endure her hardships, to feel her pain, to understand her setbacks, and to listen to her grievances. With her around, I lose track of my surroundings; where we have been, what I have said, how long we have taken. With her around, I lose track of myself; what I have been thinking, how I think, why I feel. I often doubt, but I would definitely like to believe that she did show signs of interest, which immediately set me going. She made me feel like I had not a care in the world. She made me feel like I was not living in a messed up world, and that hidden in the nooks and crannies, in the depths and crevices of the world, glimmers of goodness still exist. She was far from perfect, but infatuation has a thing for finding the blindest most queer form of attraction in imperfections. I did not particularly changed my method with my past experiences, except learning from previous mistakes and trying to be more outspoken this time round.
I have always wanted to know more about her, so I held back no effort. I ensured that distance was maintained, that timing was appropriate, and that the only way she could tell of my desperation was from the choice of my words or through the betrayal from selected mutual contacts. I must admit it was draining, but definitely rewarding to make her feel as if she had a virtual pair of ears that she could pour her troubles, her insecurities, and her feelings into. Of course she did not do that just, we had hardly even known each other too well for that, but inch by inch I was getting closer to my goal: to make her feel happy, regardless of the world around her, even me.
The third stage is bargaining.
It has been five days, and every day I tell myself that maybe it is all a mistake. Maybe it was all her clever cunningly conceived plan to deceive me, and to question me of my true dedication. Maybe it was all a brilliant test of intelligence, that despite her general naïvety all along, it showed that she had a side of depth that she simply had not shown me yet. Maybe it was all a lie, and that she just was simply not mentally and emotionally ready to commit to someone she was merely getting closer to. Maybe I'm dreaming, and that it all never really happened. Maybe she was just five steps ahead of me and wanted to let me know that.
As the circus of my mind prepares for the ultimate showdown performance, performers such as emotions, thoughts, and actions go through the final sequence. Rehearsals have been completed days ago, and everyone is excited for the big performance. All has to be at the right place at the right time, and the performance will be a resplendent spectacle. Slowly the clock ticks down, and a row of stage performers unanimously line up, adrenaline racing and stoked for the big day. As the emcee ushers in the first wave of performers, emotions steps out into the podium. Throbbing hearts and palpitating pulses are all over backstage. Abruptly, a gasp from the audiences could be heard. Backstage, every heart stopped dead in its tracks. As quickly as it came, the silence left, followed by a resounding cheer and an astounding applause, followed by a great laughter. Emotions probably messed up, but to a comedic effect. Maybe that is just what it is. A failing circus performance, an entertaining joke.
The fourth stage is depression.
I am guilty of taking it hard on myself. Or maybe it is just in a fit of guilt due to self-accused selfishness. If love is for selfish gain, what lasting eternal value does it have to offer you? For ultimately you leave behind but the remnants of your once revered achievements with the forsaken glory of brighter days. And yet I keep finding my tail caught in between the mousetrap of self-fulfilment, lulled in by the temptation of pleasure and satisfaction. Guilt aggravated by the constant repetitive bombardment from the warped mentality and hideous ideologies of this wretched society, and its uncanny opinion towards romance, which they so blatantly dub as love.
If I could turn back the hands of time and change something, I would definitely make amends in my speech, such that I would avoid the whole conversation altogether. More often than not, the general perception on knowledge is that it is a staple diet of our very humanity. But time and time again, knowledge pulls a fast one and stabs you deep in the back, and you wonder why knowledge of this form even exists, when people ask you to seek knowledge for it will grow you. Pain comes instantaneously, and regret follows suit. You regret the wrongdoings and mishaps that you know are not even your fault. Sometimes, it is just better not to know.
The final stage is acceptance.
Maybe the world has misunderstood the concept of love. Maybe love and passion are on different scales. Maybe love is meant to be manifested to those whom you detest. Maybe love is not romance after all. I am trying to adopt a slightly radical view towards the concept of love. So long as romance is included in the picture, I will question my motives and reconsider my actions, and with every ounce of effort try to ensure that my actions and reactions will be largely platonic in nature.
I will still take this experience as my personal failure, and out of sheer stubbornness and defiance, abstain from any experience of romance that I feel only provides personal satisfaction. Of which purpose I feel is too shallow. As for her, she will always be deeply etched in the inner recesses of my mind, as she has always been since the first day I met her.
I honestly do not know if I will even be able to let her go.
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