Notes from last night

There was a person, called B, and last night, for the third and final time, we broke up.

Person B has always been very good to me in a way which I have always believed to be more than I deserved. We loved each other very much. We had traditions and inside jokes and special objects we kept to ourselves.

But like almost any sad story, ours was complicated in ways that ought us not to be together. It shouldn’t have been that way; we were best friends at first. Yet, things happen as sometimes they should even without obvious reason, and soon enough we found ourselves in the fortunate position of loving someone everyone else says you shouldn’t.

We fought cynicism for over a year believing that we were part of the fortunate few to ever wage a war against the held believes and ideas of the world and come out with everything we want.

But the future is a funny, funny thing that no one can ever truly know it other than the fact that no one can ever truly know it. Whatever we do and wherever we go, it seemed that we kept finding ourselves in dead end barriers we ever so tried to break but only broke us.

And here we are - broken, gone, and separated. Although we are in a place that, I can honestly suspect and tell you, we don’t want to be in, it is where we both know we should be. And because of that, I am certain that Person B can breathe better now as I do, too.

We can never know if we will be together again or if we won’t. Like I said, the future is a funny, funny thing. And it left us something we can never resist, not even if we want to. A gift. The gift of time. 

Now, there is time to hurt, to grieve, to anger, to despair, to heal, and eventually, to laugh, and to find love again whether in the arms of someone new or old.

I cannot tell you exactly about how I feel of having time. It can both be a good and a bad thing.

For one, time always meant change, and change always meant moving on. I have never been good with that concept as it always involved patience, which I know well enough that I so unfortunately lack.

I know that there will come the dark days which I fear. Days I will end up crying in the bathroom or days I will end up cursing Person B for continuing with life while I still haven’t or days I will live in denial by marathoning my favorite tv shows. 

But I also suppose that time will also give the good days, if I’m ready for it. Those days which I should be hopeful for will come. Those will be the days I can be happy again just because I want to be. Days that I will be able to accept, to forgive, to share, and to love.

For now, Person B and I have decided to cease communication once and for all. Its going to be so hard to try to will myself into believing that a “good morning” message will not be arriving on my inbox anytime soon. 

What saddens me the most, I think, is that I honestly believed that we would make it, you know. I honestly, truly believed it. I guess the “us against the world” thing isn’t for everybody. Especially not for unemployed lovesick teenagers.

Where do they all go?

The back and forth of messages almost five hundred of which are kept in my phone? The small pieces of link to each other we carried when distance separated us.

The little trinkets I find quite randomly around my room, a little intrusively occupying their small spaces? Bracelets and baubles, candy wrappers and coffee cups that force memories of you to me.

The ice cream we share by the pergola, strawberry and chocolate, a simple combination of you and me? The delight that carries the conversation and the sweetness that propels the honesty in our words.

The inside jokes that are always repeated but never unfunny? A little insight on what we think.

The traditions of sleeping at the same time, of calling each other names, of meeting every Saturday afternoon?

The smiles, and touches, and embraces, and kisses – on skin, on lips, on ears, on shoulders, on hands…?

Where do they all go? The morning after, I wondered, and I kept wondering ‘til my weary eyes tired of tears and my cries of prayers turned to whispers. I keep wondering.

The ironic thing is, I want them to stay where they are, because I know that if from their hiding places they disappear, so will the memories of you that they carry.

the dream difference

When I was 16, 17, or 18, I had a lot of ambitions. I had hopes and dreams and they stood solid and concrete, as if nothing could ever shatter them. I wrote them in bullets and imagined them in fantasies. I shared them on blogs for people to see or etched them on memory, too precious to be shared. I kept them and they were whole and true and everything that I wanted to happen. They were all well…

…until I grew a couple of years older, I reached a milestone and finished my education, and suddenly they became foreign. These dreams that I held onto with my heart, kept me up at night, and made me anticipate for this eventual part of my life where I now stand – suddenly, to me, became unfamiliar. It feels weird, unsettling, and strange to not dream the things I once dreamt, to not obsess over their fulfillment.

How funny is the irony of the life I live– how when I was not where I am now yet I was sure of what I’d do if I were, and how when I am where I am now yet I am unsure of what I ought to do. I assure you that that is the best explanation I have for describing the contrast between how I felt then and how I feel now. I suppose I’ll never be able to verbalize it quite appropriately. But that is how I feel: sure of the future when I was in the present, now ironically unsure of the future despite being in here.

I have reasons to feel that way, I suppose.  When I was 16 (or 17 or 18) and I dreamt a lot, everything was possible, everything had a good chance to come true. But it didn’t work that way when I became 20, and I was forced to realize the holes, the barriers, the limits, the traps, and the consequences of the life choices I made and will make. Those were things I never really thought of, things that never really concerned me. But now they do, and with every step I take, they loom over me, forcing to be considered.

So as for the dreams I once dreamt that now became foreign, I don’t suppose they’re lost and I don’t suppose I don’t dream them anymore. I think they still exist in the very recesses of my heart where they are kept safe by my surviving idealism. It just so happens that they now share the space of my heart with a growing realism that inevitably comes with growing up and growing old (and graduating college). Thus, I am propelled to look at them under a new light, where I am compelled to face the future that is now and make my dreams happen step-by-step and dodge the barriers that hinder their fulfillment in the very best possible way. It’s a little bit like systematizing one’s dreams. The spirit is idealistic, but the methods are realistic.

And now that I am on that note, I suppose the only thing I should be worried about is to have my idealism die. That is something I both fear and cannot allow to happen while I am getting older. I am honestly worried that letting my idealism abate then expire may be easier than I thought. The worst part would be to come to a realization wherein I subconsciously consciously make life choices that would lead to its demise.

fresh start

When I told my good friend, Leslie, that I wanted to start a new blog since I recently graduated college, she told me that it was the same as how she felt when she was in my place. Finishing college made her realize that she had changed, and, I guess, I have the same reason for wanting to start a new one of my own. Or at the very least, almost.

I graduated from college barely a week ago. I miss school; I miss college, especially, because it was where I grew the most and it was where I honestly felt happy. At the same time, I have also let it go. I feel as if it was a place I once deeply belonged to, but then now I should be in search of somewhere else, because a huge part of me has already walked past and arrived at a new crossroad.

It was partly true that I had become a different person, but I am above all certain that I am also in search of who I am. Maybe finishing school can do that to a person. You come to a transformation that is both undeniable and inexplicable. You can feel its presence, yet you cannot fully understand it.

And to be honest, I am terrified of it. School is all that I had ever known and it was all that I had ever done. Being in school so much defined me, my thoughts, my words, and my actions. I think the Latin honor that I received during graduation perfectly symbolized how much of myself I had devoted to school. But now that it is over and I don’t have it, I am now forced to question the kind of person that I will be. More importantly, the kind of person that I want to become.

So much as graduation is about endings, it also becomes a wonderful period of discovery, of beginnings. When I think of the promise that it holds, I am somehow comforted by the realization that, at least, now I no longer merely fear. My dread is accompanied by another emotion: excitement. I am so eager to become a different person -  to develop, to grow, to improve. I am so willing to cultivate a successful transformation into a better person. Above all, I am so resolute to breaking the boundary that separates my ambitions and dreams from reality.

Here, in this precise moment of change and beginning, is a new place to cradle my thoughts, a new place to archive my metamorphosis. Indeed, it is new, but I have also kept some old things. I kept my passion for discovery. I have also kept Alice. In many ways, I am still like her: contradicting and curious. I grew and changed, but I also know that in the very deepest vessels of my heart, I still look at the world as a mad, mad Wonderland, wanting and waiting to be explored.