Sugarcoated 002: Remnants of My Broken Heart
When I was a kid, I was so immerse with those chick-flick movies. How I find that love stories was supposed to be funny and romantics. Those romantic comedy jokes are relatively sweet and gave you those butterflies in the bellly kinda thing.
I aspect that once I've reached my twenties, I'm going to meet the love of my life. Like the ones I wrote in my fanfiction Wattpad story for the Lake House ten years ago.
Gosh I was so cliche'. Now that I read it back I couldn't help but laughed. How naive I must've been. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate it. I appreciate the fact that I used to see the world from that standpoint because at least I get to feel those feelings back then. Being Hopeful.
Mind you, I actually wrote a journal for my so called "future husband". Haha. This could give you the idea that I expect him to be literate, an avid reader like me. Maybe at some point, when the day comes, he gets to read it. Knowing who I was back before who I am becoming today.
Sadly, by this year. I ended the journal entry by saying goodbye to him (the non-existent spouse). I don't believe in it anymore.
What exactly is "it" that I'm talking about?
It is "love". Eros or Agape. Whatever the term is, I don't think I have it in me anymore. I'm not interested nor that I'm planning to have it. I'm longing for it, yes, but I'm done believing that I'm capable in something like that, nor that I believe anyone would reciprocate it.
There was one time, I think, I truly believe in love. Thinking that yes, he could be "the one".
To be completely straight forward, I am actually quite blunt and sarcastic if people get to know me. As I go about my life these days, I realized not everyone get my sense of humour and that makes me feel lonely at times. Like no one gets it.
But him, he gets me. He laughed at my jokes, I laughed at his. We share that same values and what we believe the society could improve. How we respect each others space and interest. He's probably, the smartest man I've ever known, in my opinion. He was my beautiful sunset sky.
But one day, something happen. I remember him saying, that if there was something wrong, we should talk about it but instead, I brushed it off. Completely ignoring the problem because I was so embarrassed. I couldn't tell him that I felt worthless and don't deserve him. And like what I always did, I ran. I'm running from the problem.
My fear kicks in and I ruined it. I have attachment issues. Whenever I get too close to someone, I ran. I don't know why I did that.
"She could have been such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head..."
A year later I found out that he was married to someone I know. My heart was broken and I have only myself to blame. I have done something stupid and it ruined me for the rest of my life. If only I would talk about it. If only I was "mature". If only...
"...but you'll find a real thing instead. She'll patch up the tapestry that I shred.." - Taylor Swift, Champagne Problem.
But honestly, when I think about it, it wasn't him that I wanted. It's the fact that in those short moment we share, I was grieving those feelings I had for him. I somehow believe, even if there was something between us, it won't last long. It won't turn into something more.
Somehow, I was glad he found someone who are more deserving of him. "The real thing". And with that thought, I finally let it go. I'm happy for the both of them.
The only regret that I had was, I just wish that we ended in good terms. That I didn't at some point hurt him. Ghosted him. Being honest with him about my fear. I was immature.
This year, I decided that I wanted to find some sort of a closure. I have let go of the things I no longer can control. I've made a mistake but I cannot let it define me anymore. I am slowly beginning to forgive myself (I wish he have forgiven me).
This story wasn't about him in general. There are other "relationship" of which I didn't mention. But with him was more significant because, for the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to have my heart broken. In this case, it wasn't him, it was me. I'm the problem.
This story is about the fact that I am grieving the possibility of ever falling in love again. At least, the kind of love that you could've found when you are young and hopeful. Like my twenty year old self.
This is how I'll picked up the remnants of my broken heart.
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