Tag Archives: Sorrow

23.19: Dancing Through the Fire

Universal Truth.

I have found the statements “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” and “Loving someone means giving them the right to hurt you” to be incredibly conflicting.

Especially when you happen to believe both to be true.

 

 

Dark & Twisted…

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14.13: Every Now and Then

***Began on May 14, 2013***

“We all knew she was going to go. But when it finally happens, it still catches you by surprise, you know?”

My aunt died five days ago. She died on her birthday. We all think she did it on purpose – holding on so that she could pass on on the very day she was born. She was cremated on the same day and then buried three days later.

I haven’t been at work for four and a half days. Today’s my first day back and it feels incredibly strange to be here. To some degree it’s like I’m not the person I was a week ago. These days, I’m often half and half – half where I am and half somewhere else. I only wish I could figure out where that somewhere else is. It’s strange, really. I wish I could explain it. But I can’t.

Most times it’s like I’m drowning in an endless sea of sorrow. Sometimes I wish I could just let the sadness take me and let me drift off to where it wishes… But I am equally terrified that I wouldn’t be able to find my way back.

I wonder why her passing hurt so much. She was not particularly close to me – and the most that I ever felt her presence was when she was putting me through school. I know that I will always be grateful for that, but it still does not explain why I cried buckets and buckets of tears these past few weeks.

Sometimes I think I do it for my cousin, as there is that perpetual need for him to remain steadfast and strong for everyone who was left behind. So I cry the tears he cannot cry and my heart breaks instead of his.

But I cannot deny that I also cry for myself… Because, for me, every death is the same death. Every loss is the same loss. It is losing my mother, my father, and Alexis all over again.

Every death is the same death… and sometimes I wonder if I will forever be in mourning.

 

 

Blessed Be…

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12.13: As Sharp as Broken Glass

There are days like today when I lose my mind a little and start checking things that I shouldn’t be checking out anymore. For those of you who think this is another shout out to the recipient of this post, you’re sorely mistaken. There will be no names (Yes, I did that before. Yes, I have gotten over it. No, I do not regret doing that.) but I have no doubt you’ll know if it’s for you.

I think I think this is an entry that has been a long time coming. Maybe it’s something that I probably should have written several months ago, but didn’t. But what does it matter? I’m finally writing it.

*          *          *

Dear You,

I miss you. I miss us. I miss the time when I would see you at least once every week – when we had become fixtures in that Indian restaurant conveniently situated near our respective offices. I miss bringing you to your building before taking the cab home. I miss you telling the cab driver to make sure he took good care of me.

I miss how you always used to be there… How you made me feel like you would love me no matter what happened. I miss the times when it was so clear that you and I were always going to be in each other’s lives. We both made bad choices and many, many mistakes and I guess I always thought our friendship was stronger than that.

Was I wrong?

Sometimes I still wonder about what really happened. Sometimes I wish I knew the reason why you suddenly went away. Sometimes I wish I didn’t care… Then maybe I wouldn’t wonder so much.

No, I don’t understand and there are so many moments when I wish I did. You were there when I was broken and trying to find my way back and it’s just the saddest thing that now that I’m so incredibly happy, you are the one person I cannot share it with.

I will always wonder about you, I think. No matter what has come to pass, you will always be part of my story. I will always be grateful to you.

I wish you every happiness. And I will always wish you peace.

In Memoriam,
Me

*          *          *

 

 

Blessed Be…

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08.13: Unfinished

Unexplained.

I’m finally watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I’m somewhere within the first 20 minutes of the film and although nothing spectacularly sad has happened yet, it feels as though my heart is breaking.

Let’s see where this takes me.

 

 

Dark & Twisted…

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05.13: A Little Fall of Rain

The Miserable Ones

So I finally got to watch Les Miserables.

After weeks of hearing how good it was and how much they cried over the film, I finally found myself falling in line, fervently praying that my beloved and I would find unoccupied seats in a rather full theatre. I cannot thank Don enough for agreeing to watch it with me – I knew he primarily watched because I wanted to. I did not expect the film to be as long as it was – it is never easy for me to sit still for long periods of time, so you would think two and a half hours would seem like a lifetime.

But it wasn’t.

So many people have made it known – either through actual conversations that left me salivating for a theatre tickets or the multitudes of posts made on (social networking site undisclosed) – that tears were shed during the film. Personally, I knew I would cry. I mean, I’m the girl who cried while watching Aladdin (when he told Genie that his third wish was for Genie to be free). What I did not expect was when the tears actually fell.

As the credits were rolling, I sent an SMS to my best friend… “You HAVE to watch Les Mis. And you HAVE to bring tissue. Like 10 boxes.” When we met up with him that night, he asked me if I really cried. I did. I felt like every time some character died, I cried. The problem was people kept on dying throughout the film.

No, watching it on a Sunday night wasn’t the best idea in the world because it left me with such a heavy feeling in my heart. I was surprised to find my tears falling during Fantine‘s I Dream a Dream, Eponine‘s A Little Fall of Rain and Jean Valjean‘s death.

As we walked out of the theatre, I fully understood why people kept lining up to watch this movie. It was truly a magnificent experience… A beautiful story with characters that were both flawed and strong… Its dialogue was done entirely through song yet every viewer understands… But most of all, at the end of two and a half hours, you understand why it was entitled “The Miserable Ones“. And this, more than anything else, I think, is what inexplicably draws us in and breaks our hearts.

After all, at one point or another, no matter how fleeting, we were all miserable too.

 

 

Ciao Bella!

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72 in ’12: After All

As that Sound of Music song goes, “Let’s start from the very beginning… A very good place to start…”

How I wish I knew when it began. Then maybe I would be in a better place to understand everything now. I have known you for quite a while and I never even entertained the thought of seeing you as more than a friend. That is unusual for me.

You have always been there… you were the one I told all my stories to… you were the one I would bother when there was nothing to do… you were the one who appeared for not real reason, greeted me good morning and asked me what was up… you were the one who was always there. Yet you were the one who I never saw.

Until now. Now you’re all I see.

I guess, in a way, I have Batman to thank for this. And before that, Old Man. And before that, D. And before that, the Abstract Artist. And before the Abstract Artist, I guess I have to thank He-Who-Broke-My-Heart. Since the beginning is a very good place to start, I really have to say this – when I really look at it, the beginning started with the end.

One Hope

He broke my heart. He broke it so badly that there were days when I thought I would never get over it. It took me to a place that made me think I was meant to be alone. After all, how could a four-year relationship end in less than 5 minutes at 5:30, one April morning?

I remember when we broke up more than 2 years ago. Why we broke up isn’t important. What is important is the fact that back then, he wasn’t ready to let go. So he fought for me – no matter how many times I told him that I needed time and I needed space. When we ended things this year, a part of me couldn’t help but feel cheated – because this time, it was over for him. This time, he was the one who wanted to let go. This time, he was ready. So he just… left.

Why was it so easy for him to leave? Why was it so easy for him to fall in love with someone else? Why was it so easy for him to move on? Why was it so easy for him to forget what we had? Why was it so easy for him?

How come it had to be so hard for me?

Admittedly, the version of me who reacted to the whole thing was not the best, to put it mildly. I tried to move on, and, like most things, the intention was good, but the execution left a lot to be desired. I ended up feeling more hurt and more used than I’ve ever been before and now that that particular phase has passed, I can honestly say that it was no one else’s fault but mine. I want to point fingers and say that the Abstract Artist was an adulterer and that D was a cheating, indecisive prick. I want to point fingers and say that Old Man had no balls and that Batman was a dick. But at the end of the day, matter how many fingers I point at other people, at least one finger would always point back at me. It was my decision to be with them.

Joy was right. I had lessons to learn with each and every one of them.

With the Abstract Artist and with D, I learned that no amount of it “feeling right” would change the fact that taking something that was already someone else’s was wrong. I did not learn with the Abstract Artist, so I made the same mistake with D. And I probably would have made the same mistake again had not learned that I deserved to be someone’s choice, and not just an option. With them, I learned that I was worth it.

With Old Man and Batman, I learned that past behavior will predict future behavior. If he was a coward with so many other girls, he would still be a coward with me. If he just wanted sex 8 years ago, chances are, sex was all he wanted now too. I did not not learn with Old Man, so I made same mistake with Batman. I thought they would be different now, but they weren’t. With them I learned that people will not change for me.

With He-Who-Broke-My-Heart, I learned that we can only change for ourselves. But more that, I learned that when we do change, we should change for the right reasons.

One Truth

And now I have come full circle. Now I come back to you.

You were everything I said I didn’t want. I have always been one for labels, but I cannot seem to have one for you. There are a lot of things I want to say to you, but I think I’ll save it for another day. You are a different story and I will tell it at another time.

We are very different, you and I… And yet sometimes, it seems like the lessons we have to learn are the same. Maybe these are some of them…

…That we have to live in the present, which means we have to let go of the past.
…That we are better for having once been broken.
…That we have to stop running after the wrong things in order for the right ones to catch us.
…That we have to give people the chance to love us.
…And, at the end of it all, we have to realize that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be so hard after all.

Maybe.

One Secret

*          *          *

Turning up the love, PhoenixFire.

Turns on everything else.

Love up,
The Universe

*          *          *

Dear Universe,

It’s like up to the max ❤

On The Edge,
PhoenixFire

 

 

Blessed Be…

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71 in ’12: INSTRUCTIONS: Play Video Then Read

I’ve been going through my old blog and, if you haven’t guessed yet, the previous entry was from there. It was a letter written by someone way back in 2004. And, when I really think about it, he could have very possibly had the other half of my spirit. I, of course, wrote him back… (I want you guys to have the total experience – ambiance and everything – so please follow instructions as stated in the title)

*          *          *

I guess it’s my turn to begin a letter with the words with ‘How do I even begin to write?’ I imagine you’re not too happy with me right now… Particularly after all the questions that I threw your way earlier.

I’m sorry if I make your life so much harder than it already is… But I refuse to apologize for the questions that I asked.

I know you’ve told me time and again that now is not the time… Nor do you have any idea if there ever will be… But for some reason, that just simply refuses to sink in. Perhaps in time it will… But not now. That much I can tell you.

I have the same hopeless inside as you do… That nagging feeling that I will spend the rest of my days alone. It always seems as if my purpose in someone’s life is to help them see just how beautiful life can be.. To bring back their faith in life… In hope… In love. And when they do have again, then my work is done. Then i have to leave… Or I get thrown away. For some reason I have resigned myself to this. I have always been the messenger… And it seems as if I always will be.

I know you don’t understand a lot of things about me. And I must admit there are a lot of things that, try as I might, I don’t understand about you either. I won’t even try to explain. Some things happen just they’re supposed to… And I guess sometimes, that’s all explanation I need.

Please don’t distance yourself from me… There are so little joys in life and I don’t want mine to lessen by one. Just be a friend, if that’s all you could ever be for me… If that’s the only thing you’d ever want to be with me. I can’t force you to be anything else… Free will. Just be a friend… Hold my hand… Just be there.

You keep saying that you prey on the innocent. But I have seen too much… Felt too much… Given too much to have any innocence left in me. I think you have it the other way around. I am not your innocent. You are mine.

I’d like to believe that no one and nothing can ever hurt me or break my heart if I don’t let it. So leave my heart to me. It is mine to own and mine to give away. It will be mine to make… Mine to break… And apparently I do a damn good job of shattering it over and over again.

I know I’m selfish. I won’t even try to deny that. But I would rather have you in my life as something other than what I want than to not have you in my life at all. I know that there are times when you wish that you didn’t love me. But you do. And there are moments when I wish that I never fell in love with you. But I did. So leave this feeling to me. Give me at least that. Give me the shortest moments… The most fleeting instances of happiness… And leave my heart to me.

For some reason, I never learn, do I? And my heart never has any decency to choose someone who could just fall back in love with me. I’m not sorry for loving you… But at least respect the way that I do, because it’s the only way I know how. You know how I am about regrets… My life is far too short for them to exist.

Not all this may make sense… But respect it anyway. Or pretend to, at the least. Be there, even if you can’t be with me. Love me, though you can’t entirely. And let me love you the way I know how. Maybe things will work out. Maybe they won’t. But just try to understand this… Even if we both know that you’re not ready to walk into my life… Even if we both know that I’m not ready to walk out of yours.

*          *          *

Footprints in the Sand

It’s been almost 10 years since I last saw King. Although his face has become a blurred memory, today I cannot help but remember. We were kindred souls and these were were our lives put down in paper. I no longer wonder about him, even as I walk down memory lane. I knew being together was not in the stars for us… And I was okay with that.

I really did love him, although he was never mine. At one point I think I said I would have done anything for him. Looking back at how things unfolded for the two of us, I realize that, in the end, I did. I did the one thing that I never wanted to do.

In the end, I let him go.

 

 

Blessed Be…

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