That's how the story goes. You think how your life pans out is due to fate, but most of the time, you are the person who chose to have it that way.
Everytime I gain a kind of fulfilment in life, be it through a person, through an event, through an achievement, I think: Hey, this is it. Finally, this feels like something that may actually be it. It will take me out of my hole of feeling lonely most of the time and make me a happier person.
I know I know. I shouldn't rely on anyone except myself to achieve a sense of well-being and security. But at 24 years old, I still find it hard to think that being alone beats having something that can prop you up. I mean, why not. I am not a super hero. I cannot conquer the world even if I desired to. But with someone else, or with an extra something, I can share my joy. I can attribute it to something. What's the point of finding self-gratification at a party where people celebrate your achievements when end of the day, you go home, switch on the lights and realise that self-gratification can only bring you to your door.
Back to my point about gaining something in my life. I am a walking contradiction who says "I'm flawed" as the only excuse. So I think, yes, finally, I am going to be a happier and more contented person. And then, I go and throw it away. Recklessly. Non-recklessly and almost guiltily, I come back, feeling sorry and wishing that I never let recklessness get the better of me. And then, what you thought would get you through forever, or at least what you perceived and felt like was forever, goes away. And you know what the saddest thing is. The fact that what you felt was the best thing that hit you, goes away to become part of everything that has left you. And mind you, I didn't forget, with good reason.
So imagine this. What you put on a pedestal, a major deal, becomes a memory. Becomes something that you chunk together with the past. It kind of says either of the two: 1) You fucked up so too bad or 2) That wasn't it
I do think I do this to myself sometimes. But if I could squeeze in a word for myself here, to somehow make myself redeemable, is that, when I have heart, I really do. And I don't mean to say that I have it all the time, or that it makes me a better person. It's just that, when I don't give a shit, it's normally because I am too fucked to know what I'm doing, or that I'm too fucked by some kind of emotion to know what I'm capable of. Trust me, I know how melodramatic I can be. And if there's anyone who's going to take a violin out to etch out a sad tune instead of calling the fire brigade when a building is burning down , it's yours truly.
So what is the big deal right. Doing wrong and then proclaiming that when I feel, I really put my heart out there. An action is an action. And until it's been done unto you, you'll never be the one to realise that all the heart in the world will not undo it.
So here I am again. Picking up the pieces that remains of a wrong. A case of a human being who has gone horribly wrong. And hope that, along the way while stuffing these pieces back into the dark room of my head where memories are developed like photographs, that another human being will see me, just as someone who had once gone horribly wrong. And take me as new, as whole.
My heart now says, don't, because if you do, you are putting me down. You kill whatever hope I have.
The rest of me says, do, because if I don't, I'll never know what human being may come along my way, who will see my heart more than who I am, and be the reason, (again!) for me to go: Hey, this is it. Finally, this feels like something that may actually be it.
Haha, who will that poor soul be. Cursed by the coming clutches of my hands, ready to dig into his flesh, and never letting it go without a fight.
Then again, who knows. Maybe in this world, a heart doesn't matter. Maybe actually, a heart that feels joy cannot feel remorse as much. So the joy is validated, but the remorse isn't.
I need to learn something. A flaw or a heart. A good heart wouldn't make a flaw. Maybe I don't have a heart. Yet, time and time again, I feel the pains in my chest when I come face to face with my flaws.
See, people say a heart is bigger than alot of things.
See, people say a mistake is a mistake.
Yet time and time again, the mistake conquers all. I have no qualms about agreeing that this is the way it's supposed to be. I believe in karma and retribution. I believe in paying for mistakes. I believe in dealing with it. I believe that not everything can go your way. I believe that even time may not heal everything. So what is the fucking big point that I'm trying to make.
This long rant, done in a slightly out of sorts mode, has come to a a conclusion, that well, I could have just kept to rather than blabber on about.
I know this sounds excrutiatingly cheesy, but it's hope. Hope makes me believe that despite all the things that happen, that there is a chance that one day, the good days will come back. Because hope goes against all reason, all logic, all kinds of storm and weather, and still proves to the non-believers that hey, even though there is nothing left, absofuckinglutely nothing left, something will come back again to take nothing's place.
But hope is a dangerous take to hold close to your heart. It's a destroyer and a protector.
William Shakespears says: The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope.
I'm not miserable. I'm okay. I just really needed to let it all out in some venue. Think about it, imagine if I blabbered out everything I said here to someone's bleeding ears haha.
Anyway, I'm done with my emotional outburst. I'm heading back to office to clear some work. I'm looking forward to some mindless activity. Tempted to bring my speakers along for entertainment.
Honestly speaking, I'm not as sad about the situation as much as I am sad about giving up a hope.
Hope jobe pope.
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