My Epiphany

A wise professor of mine once said, (in her very effective you-better-listen-and-you-better-listen-real-good tone) "A mistake can only be called a mistake if you don't learn from it.". Ingenius huh? I bet Thomas Edison and all the other greats of the world knew that. Perhaps lived their wondrous lives around it. Well then there you go people of this shallow world! The answer to all our inevitable dilemmas. ..... Yeah yeah.. Who the hell are we kidding? We all wish life was that fucking easy.

I have made a fistful of "mistakes" in my infamous 19 years. A couple of f-ed up ones awake and dead. Some that no one couldn't translate into anything else but stupidity. But the most awfully moronic among them all are caused by the biggest fugitive that is the root of all female related evil-- estrogen.

Do you ever wonder how these so called "oopsies" impact others? How our everyday decisions contribute to either a benefit or damage to another human being? Another breathing, thinking rational living thing. I for one rather not know. It's hard enough to think about how to deal with current dreadful shortcomings. Adding something to be guilty about is out of the question. You may say that it's okay to condescend once in awhile. But this is just too much for an "on the edge" 19 year old lassie to handle.

In a way, minimal or major, we are all fugitives. Guilty of hurting others (intentionally or not). That's just how things work. Based on a single day's realisation. I have come to this groundbreaking conclusion: When cards are folded, and we ran out of chips to play, majority of us choose to fleet. Dash away as fast as we could-- as if we'll never reach anything. We'd run away from the blame-- from sharing the pain. We can deny it as much as we want. That's what we are. Agile vagabonds who are most scared of nonetheless, ourselves.

To us who are left behind.

A stranger (literally) just told me (approximately a couple of hours ago) that this would make me a better person. Well for one right this second, I don't feel any nearer to a better me. But hey, it's worth giving a try. (And it's like I have any other choice) I opt to be my own catalyst. Start a movement towards moving on. Now all I have to do is wait. Pause and abide for someone who will accompany me through this current bullshit phase. Someone insane who'll make me believe in love again. Some demented dude who will go "all in" not in games, but just for crazy old me :)

Why?

Missing a loved one (current or former, which ever fits you) is the most grusome among all tortures in life- combined. I just couldn't think of anything more intolerable. Yeah I can take a few punches here and there. But this? Fuck no. This made me realize the benefits of euthanasia. It's when death suddenly becomes a logical option. It's the only solution in putting an end to egregious pain. In the end, what seemed to be inhumane before, instantly turns into an antidote to undying suffering.

How often do you cry? Do you even cry at all? If you haven't, I pity you yet I envy you at the same time. I feel sorry for you for the fact that you will sob a couple of times eventually, whether you dodge it all your life, trust me, you will. And when the dreaded time comes and you do finally tear up, you'd say that Rose was dead on correct. I envy you. Because you'd still live as if you will never be touched, never feel pain. You will still live life fully. Without caution, without looking back. It is a dangerous life to live but it sure as hell one of the happiest times you'll ever be. Well just for now I guess..

I miss him. Not constantly.. But all the friggin time. The very drop of every tear. Every strike of pain. I'd be more than glad to endure just to get a glimpse of his face, hear his laugh, feel his touch.

Why can't I make that first step? Why the hell can't I escape? Why do I still cry myself to sleep? Why am I this fucking naive? Why do I, despite EVERYTHING, still love him with every ounce of my everything?

Food For Thought

Different people cope in different ways. The world is diverse enough to hold assorted personalities that survive by various means. Some act like deranged wild animals let out of their cages. But then at the end of the day, cry like lost juviniles wanting their mommies. Some fortunate shitheads, simply live their usual lives like nothing happened. Whether they are prentinding not to care or they genuinely do not give any shit, it's definitely an impressive skill. A few become instant opposite of themselves thinking that it would prove something. Good boys turn into disgusting asswipes while goody good two shoes women end up being abberant bitches. Others, in a simpler term, turn to FOOD! They just eat their hearts out. Quite a pain in the ass (or should I say enlarges ones' ass). But hey, better be a fatty than a bewildered stuck up biatch, eh?

I will not let this ruin me. My heart may be damaged right now, but I know it's stil a good one. Perhaps maybe even a great one. Capable of loving more than before. More than a heart that's whole to begin with. You just wait, Mr. Whoever-the-hell-you-are! You just wait..

Blame It!

Men, break. Women, bend. Well said "pareng" Jamie Foxx! Ladies and gents, this is the same dude who sang Blame It (On The Alcohol). Ironic isn't it? In the case of men, the song should be more as, "Blame It (On Anything Else But Me). Fits better doesn't it?

Mr. Foxx had just lifted my drepressed ass up. HALLELUJAH! The Adam's of the world just can't handle it. According to Mr. Eric Bishop (his birth given name), men just simply break. I prefer the terms, shattered into pulverized bits of assholes. Let's face it ladies, they just go barging into our lives and then bail
out when things don't turn out the way they pictured it in their tiny little heads. The solution? What else? ALCOHOL!

I am kidding people. Whatever it is that is blamed on a man or even a chick, he or she must own up to his or her actions. It's the least you could give to your partner. If you truly love (in other cases loved) him or her, you wouldn't even stand the idea of hurting your behalf. Finger pointing will lead to nowhere. Whether you'll end up staying together or what else but downhill, you just cannot end any great relationship that way. Heard me? YOU FUCKING CANNOT!!

I can do this! My Prince Charming, whoever the hell you are, you better get your goddamn ass in here ASAP! (Oh dear Lord, please give me back my beloved peculiar humor)

CRAZY, Yes. But No Way In Hell An IDIOT.

What does moving on really mean? Does that indicate that in a certain point I stopped? Stopped at what exactly? In living? In doing things I usually do? Heck, in breathing? I'd like to think more of it as getting tangled. Cornered in a murky unfathomable box that I myself put my whole being into. Both the physical and metaphysical of my being. Though, the culprit is not the person causing this. It is I. Crazy yes, but no way in hell an idiot.

The things that keep me awake at night the most are questions. Questions that does not have to be answered really. But somehow heard. It snatches away the controversial remnants of my sanity. If that still even exists.

Now this is not a matter of knowing, but of accepting. I am fully aware that it will be hard. And I mean intensely depressing hard. But hey.. What is there to lose this time?

No more dubious actions Rose. Stop torturing yourself. Enough martyrdom. You must not give up. You can't.

Boohoo? BOO.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

This is a vague description of what it is that I feel inside. Frustrated. Angry. Confused. Hurt. Feelings that result to only one thing: goddamn tears.

Carrie Bradshaw once said that a person could only cry a certain amount of tears in his/her lifetime. In her case, she used up all of hers for Mr. Big. That after more or less 10 years of their abstruse "relationship", those years of continuous filling up of buckets and buckets of sobs, her tear ducts bailed out and decided to just dry up. Now is this a fact or an auspicious attempt of desperate women to somehow ease their unfading agony? You decide.

Weeping is our body's way of releasing insurmountable grief. There's just this instant on button in our system that activates when the physical body chooses not to take it in anymore. It is a simple way of our human form saying, "Hey stupid, no more.."

Wake up, Rose. He chose to leave you this way. He voluntarily broke the promise you both shared. In all his willingness, whatever reason he might have, he broke your heart, again.

Where The Hell Is My Happy Ending?

How I wish I was 10 again. A delusional yet hopeful brat. By this time, my struggling creativity has started to kick in. This was the phase when I'd read fairy tales over and over again until I could remember these full-of-shit stories by heart. Heck, I would give up anything just to be naive once again. Live in a colourful world genuinely believing that someday, my Prince Charming on his white horse will take me away from this dire and dark place and then live ever so happily ever after. I want to be deceived by this fantasy where no matter how evil my step sisters may be, how monstrous the dragons surrounding me, how wicked the witches after me, I would know that my knight in shining armour will kick the crap out of their big cruel asses. Right then and there. Just like that. How fictional can these bullshits get, eh? Note to self: never let my kids read fairy tales without wiseacre adult supervision.

My belief in my own happy ending was taken away from me. I thought that in love, no matter how shitty the shittiest of things may get, it all will and always get better. I used to think that nothing's worse than not being with the one you love. That intolerable mishaps would just be like a scratch and life without your significant other is the equivalent to metastasised cancer-- no cure, impossible escape, guaranteed death.

The pain consumes every remaining living cell in my close to lifeless body. It will not stop until it reaches my former unyielding core. A fragment in me where I'm not sure even exists anymore. Will I ever be revived? Is there something, someone out there capable of saving me? Hell, do I even want to be saved? I do not know what I want. But surely, I will not debate on whatever it is that I need. I need you my prince charming. Despite this current ominous aura that surrounds me, I am still a faithful believer. Prove me right. Save me from this inauspicious world. ASAP.

PS.
Don't take too long. Okay?

Nothing.

I firmly believe that it is impossible to mend a broken heart. I had come to this conclusion not because of bitterness and hatred but because of unbiased prejudices and an experience-- yes, experience in singular form.

I have only found and lost love once. (Oh, dear God just as far as 19 years) Both the best and worst times were brought by this one person. Numerous faceless strangers passed by unnoticed. But it took only one to effortlessly break my heart into uncountable pieces.

I am afraid. Afraid of living the rest of my life with these debris you left-- you voluntarily abandoned. Questions and doubts are irrelevant. Apathy would actually do better right now than anything else. I would rather feel nothing than something. I do not know how much more I could possibly take. The word unbearable never seemed clearer.

Love?

LOVE. *sigh*

Doesn't this word give you the creepiest goose bumps ever? There's just this feeling that crawls underneath your skin that gives every hair follicle of your body a boner. It amazes me how something this weird feels so right-- how something that is already put on a pedestal still be considered under-rated.

The things I have been posting for the past couple of days have all been consisting of crap. Dark, bitter and painful crap. I kept on lurking on a side that made the worst of things worse. I insisted on denying my own evident feelings. Feelings that no great master of pretending can ever hide.

I now choose this path. A path where I can freely expose my self to both the wonders and hardships of life and of love. I want to see it with both eyes open; experience it with myself actually being a part of it. And when the time comes and I stumble and may break a couple of bones in the way, I would still want there to be a smile on my face. Bloody and bruised, but still smiling. :)

I dare all of you to try. Give yourselves a chance. Do not believe the bullshit saying that an opportunity knocks only once. Remember, an opportunity as great as love doesn't just knock once, hell, love itself will kick a hole in your wall just to get in.

http://www.formspring.me/roseydiola
http://twitter.com/#!/hungryrosey

Breathe.

More often than not, people tend to forget how easy it is to figure out how some things work. It is as simple as these three steps:
Step # 1 - Acknowledge that thing's existence and everything else that leads to it.
(Instead of ignoring all your fucking feelings, look into it yourself. Be aware that the pain is there. Do not deny the fact that you're hurt, and like any other living thing that is harmed or damaged, it must and will be fixed.)
Step # 2 - Accept all the pain and hurt without complain.
(Take them in like rocks thrown at you just as a martyr stonned to death. Morbid as it sounds, that's reality. No matter how unbearable the pain may be, you just cannot love that person any less.)
Step # 3 - Adjust.
(Shortest in words but most certainly the longest to do. When a person whom you start and end the day with, and then taken away from you just like that. Well, in my case not taken away from you but him choosing to do so hurts a hundred folds more. Adjusting may be impossible right now, but eventually you'll get there. You just have to.)

This is beyond the capacity of any sane human being. I am madly in love and just plain mad-- crazy. There is no feeling that is greater than love. But the pain that came with it was something I was not prepared for. I didn't wish for my love to be reciprocated in any shape or form, but I surely hoped it would be. All I asked for was a love that would just be enough to sustain something this rare-- this great. Yeah yeah. Fuck love.