i love you (the only person who would read my blog)

damn insecurities

Rene was right all along

Dear _ _ _ _ _,

This is the letter that I will never send, the words that I might never say, the feelings that I likely will never own up to. For the past few weeks, I have effectively blocked you out of my mind, but only temporarily. Long nights on the outside porch remind me of how you used to sit at almost the exact same spot where I am now. Flipping through pages of research notes with images of you in the back of my head. Listening to Cassis, but not the same like before. Desperately looking for Dante who was the closest echo to feeling you.

How could something so beautiful have been so tainted at the same time? How could a field of daisies be choked by so many weeds? Memories, littered with so much joy and so much grief. So much kindness and so much cruelty. So many truths and so many lies that the lines of reality and illusion are again blurred for me.

Everything is empty now. A void has been left in both you and I. But I know you will move on so much sooner than I could, though I would be the one who does a better show of looking like I am indifferent. You chose to fill the emptiness with another while I choose to fill it with work. Was I right in thinking that I could never make you happy? I might never know. Nobody waited for me.

If only you had. Even if I cannot imagine being commited at this age, I might just have waited for you. I had been all this while. Waiting for a change, waiting for the day when you wouldn't have to yell at me or hurt me. At the same time, asking for just a little more patience for me to deal with the bones that drag behind me, the burden that still weighs on my back. The inner turmoils that I've yet to confront, to defeat. The flaws that I still had to fix.

That day, I said not now, just not now. I guess you wouldn't wait. Perhaps all would go well with her. I sometimes hope that in the future I might get to see you again. Maybe pick up the pieces that time did not sweep away. Who knows. I've always lived by the principle that if someone really were the one, they'd come again. I am not fit to bear the responsibility a relationship required at this time. I cannot even take care of myself. If you only you had understood. If only you had not dismissed it as me just wanting to have fun.

When all I just wanted you to know was that I wanted to fix myself first before I am able to give fully of myself. You might probably never grasp that there are just too many things holding me back, too many conflicts, too much confusion, a perpetual struggle to determine who I really am, to see for myself which of the many identities I had assumed for so long, switching back and forth, to choose the one that was really me.

If I had to say goodbye, it was more than just leaving you; it was leaving one of the greatest things that made me like a little girl. It was saying goodbye to my childhood as well. Does everyone ever completely leave their childhood behind? Do they leave that little girl on her own, and move on? It seems like this is what I am doing. Some might say it was about time I left her. It was about time I grew up, mature, take on responsibility, think like an adult. And yet... I would always remember the child I had left with the memories of you. Never fully forgotten but somewhere in the past.

She sounds like a great girl. The only tears I'd shed now are not out of regret, nor of happiness, nor of sadness. But of the uncertainty of the future and if I had really lost you forever.

Almost like how the little girl would always lose her way and wonder if she would ever find her way back to her Dante.

does not look too bright now

I guess I should be happy? I used to think that just as long as I excel in my studies and get a good job then my emotions can just fuck themselves and jump out the window. As long as my work and personal life did not mix up then everything would be fine. As long as I had the grades, the intelligence to boast about. As long as I was contributing something to society. As long as I had something to fill the void for companionship.

But at the end of the day, I've nothing to embrace but my work and cigarettes.

Karma? I believe so. When I dumped him. When I dumped the one before him. When I was mean to the one before him and before him and before him. All the rest that I had thoughtlessly let enjoy me. All the jumping from one to the next. I hate this. I'm not proud of this at all. It makes me so goddamn sick.

I keep telling myself that I'm just not meant for this kind of thing. That given the abilities that I have, I cannot afford to be held down by the commitment a relationship requires. I was that woman that was scorned, vilified, abused, used, battered, discarded in this period of 5 months.

Was it my own fault? Perhaps. I make up excuses, 'How long would it have lasted anyway?' True. How long would it have lasted. Another few more months? Let alone forever or till death did us part. All those times he lost his temper with me. All the times I had been called names. All the times where he just didn't show any care. All the times that I compromised myself. All the times I had been literally pushed down, dragged around, shouted at. And what was I doing? Sitting around waiting for that goddamn change that just wouldn't happen.

So he's met her mother. This new one. Yet another conquest. Let him be, I tell myself. Even if it hurts so deeply that similar memories are being shared with someone else. Even if it sticks a knife in me that he probably is just repeating the previous cycle, only this time its her. Forget it. The more I deny it, it would just go away. Worked before, will work again. Would she exceed where I did not? I tried to be everything anyone could ask for. Intelligent, beautiful, caring, funny, crazy, exciting and more. I switched personalities more often that I changed my clothes. Or probably as often to accompany the current personality I was using.at that time. I became the ideal for almost everyone, yet not myself. What is wrong with me? Why am I doing this? For what, the experiments that I wanted to carry out just to see how relationships with this certain person would turn out? That boyfriends were human test subjects for some sick independent social science project? What?

I noticed; everybody has somebody now. The ones that held on. The ones that broke up. But everybody has somebody. How fast they all move on. And yet I refuse to jump on the next boat that passes me by. For what? To have to mess up everything all over again? Its senseless.

Oh, and I haven't even started on Mr. Thinks-He-Can-Fuck-Around-Just-Because-He-Thinks-He's-All-That. All over another one in front of everyone in public. Not giving a fuck about how it makes me look like. Not only am I thoroughly disgusted, but the only thing that has sustained any actual damage is my ego. I am not Girl #153. I am Lynette. And you don't mess with me. Because I am not just some faceless ass you fucked around with, I am my own person, better yet, I daresay that I've more brains than most of the girls you've dated. I'd've liked to believe that there was something else beneath the label. Just because I myself knew how it feels like to be dismissed as a stereotype. But hell, I read mushroom soup on the can and what do you know? I didn't find mushroom soup. I didn't find beef chowder. I didn't find corn. I found goddamn rotten mushroom soup that I was so eager to throw into the dump of which I'm glad I did. So long and good riddance. You have the balls to tell me that I can't find another guy like you before? Well guess what, buddy. I'm fucking glad I won't! Just one of you in this world is bad enough. So, good luck finding something of interest (a brain, perhaps?) in this other piece of meat you have on your arm right now. I doubt there's much else besides her WonderBra cleavage and 2nd grade face.

At the end of the day, sometimes I wonder if this is really karma getting back at me. And this is the biggest thing that makes me so fucked up about it all inside. Did I cheat? And is this my just dessert? Why distress myself thinking why are things the way they are? What's done is done. What's past is past. This is just one more mistake to forget, one more lesson to learn. The consequence is just temporary. I've got something better, something new to look forward to. It doesn't have to be someone new, not like what everyone else is doing. Hell, even his friend that broke up has found a new one since that day he begged him for company on our anniversary.

I can't stand this. I am bitter and I cannot deny it now. I try to console myself, that at least I still had my work to back me up. Even if I failed at relationships, I succeeded so much as a single person. Everybody else were happy with whoever they're with but no, I'm different; I'm better because I have this level of commitment to my work, undeterred by anything else.

And then I beat myself up thinking that maybe I deserved all this scorn, these rumors, this hurt, this loneliness. That its plainly a result of karma. Atonement for the sins of the past. This is where the interest guy comes back to fuck you up big time and demands this much of payment on that day. That I had brought this on myself.

In the end I am alone. Even the girl that I hang out with to forget, she has her own. Every-fucking-one just has some-fucking-one. Fuck it. If its to be like this, so be it. Maybe there is a better reason of why I am alone now. Not karma at work, but because everyone else can afford to be distracted except me. It didn't matter that at the end of the day, there just isn't anyone to hold. I have to do something. Something that makes up for where I lack, that everybody else is having. I am just going to throw myself into the only boat that matters;

work.