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Take a look inside my heart
Wednesday, June 18, 2008

I just wrote a poem, to be posted in my poetry blog later. Suprised that the poem is still about him. My Cambodian ex who, for the second time, has seen fit to leave me in a huff with nary an explanation. That was five months ago. I am okay, I tell myself and others. I have accepted the end of that relationship, this I am sure of. And I’d like to think that I have moved on. But moved on to what? With him gone, I’m now free to do what I want.
But sometimes, freedom can really suck. Big time.
A friend’s relationship has also ended recently and coping with this loss has been a regular subject of our conversations of late. Both of us seem to have been, in a way, duped. If not by our lovers, then by love itself. D likes to think that I am helping her deal with grieving for the end of her relationship and moving on. In truth, she is helping me as much by becoming my sounding board for my own grieving which, much as I’d hate myself for admitting, is not over yet.
I think I am sadder than I appear to be. The reason why I probably didn’t go through what D is going through right now is because I was too busy getting well from my bout with gallstones. After that I got busy with work and other personal matters (spending more time with another friend who was leaving for Mongolia, moving to a new flat, among others). And now that the proverbial dust has begun to settle around me (though I am certain this calm will not last long), I am suddenly becoming aware again of feelings that I had managed to ignore in the past months.
It’s an unwelcome feeling. But one that needs to be addressed as soon as possible.
So where am I now? Single (alone) and free (meandering) to do whatever (whoever) I want, relying on friends (one-night-stands & other coping mechanisms) for company (sex) and emotional support (validation).
It’s not the best deal, but it will do for now. My heart complains. As I am getting older I find that my heart is increasingly becoming difficult to please. As opposed to my mind, who’s becoming more open to compromises. This dissonance, perhaps, brings a possible explanation to my feelings. I am sad, not depressed. Lonely, but not miserable. As I had written in a previous post, my heart was broken but was not crushed. H, another friend, told me that I still have feelings for him. This is something no one has told me before. H has seen how I had fawned over a guy we both know. And yet, that blunt pronouncement.
I saw no point in denying. True, I still have feelings for him. We had such good times, after all. And besides, I have always believed that feelings are not like faucets that you can stop completely by turning the tap. Takes a while for it to disappear, if it will at all. The best one can hope for is for the feelings to dissipate enough that you don’t hurt when memories about the person are brought up by the mind. That, to me, is a more proper indicator of ‘moving on’.
That being said, I will again admit that I have not categorically, and irrevocably, moved on. Two months ago I wrote of days and nights merging into each other, automatically performing tasks that mimic life and living, and pushing memories towards the back of the mind. Unhappy circumstances and undertakings for sure. But I’ve gone through them all, without anybody knowing.
Perhaps, until now.
Bars of sunlight begin to fall through the sole window of my room. Pale darkness permeates everything. My rebound boy begins to stir on the bed, his long legs kicking the covers away. He greets me a good morning, his tone surprisingly shy. Yawning and stretching, he is quite a sight to behold. I think of what we should have for breakfast.
Or before that.










