Sunday, January 4, 2015

And all the way home, hot tears welled up in my eyes as I stared out of the window. I was secretly glad the public bus was near empty - no one paid any attention to me as I allowed myself to cry as I scrolled through my playlist and selected the most heart-wrenching of songs. I took notice of the lyrics more than I usually did and they resonated with me more than they usually did.

I've always wondered why, for the past two months or so, I never properly cried or didn't bring myself to cry. It always felt like everything was bottled up within me but yet I couldn't release all that I was feeling. But there and then, the faucet that controlled my tears lost its handle - everything was released. I looked around to make sure that no one was looking - no one was. And so I didn't hold it back, apart from muting it. Did it make me feel any better? Perhaps, but not really. Did it make me more confused? Yes, it sure did. 

What even triggered this? Your presence maybe. But that'd be too small a trigger and if that really was the case, I'd be terrified of school reopening tomorrow. As much as I refuse to admit this, what really crushed me was the fact that you still trust me after everything. It scared me, to realize you still valued whatever I might have thought, and it scared me, to realize that you still understood me without any verbal communication. It was a brief second but that was the only thing that stayed with me throughout the entire day. And it's so scary how something so small as that could turn me into a mess. If the same scene played out in another situation, I might have melted but this time I was crushed into bits and pieces, knowing that something quite magical has been lost, but yet hating the little leftover specks of magic that continued to stay with us because it is but a bitter reminder of everything that could have been. 

The moment I reached home, face flushed and eyes swollen, and panicking because I never had such a huge wave of emotion engulf me so suddenly in this way when I least expected it, I sought the advice of the only person who is able to knock sense in me when my head is fuzzy. I didn't get an immediate reply, which gave me time to think things through myself. I couldn't receive the call when it came eventually and settled for text therapy but in a desperate attempt to push away everything, as I always did, I proclaimed that "I'd rather cry, there's a limit to my tears anyway". 

For which I got the response, "but there is no limit to your hurt and the regret you feel". '

He was right. Indeed, that's very wise. (As much as I hate to admit it, thank you so much.) Exactly what I needed to hear, but yet not enough for me to act upon it. I have used up all my guts for every little minute moment of "courage", for things no one even needed to hear. I have spun stories I've grown to believe in myself and it was all so frightening because I didn't know what to think anymore. 

And what really struck me the most was how much I was still affected by this entire situation. It's already been quite some time, and I never thought recovery was so time-consuming. Does time really heal everything? So I've told people, "oh when the year starts, I'll just put everything behind me" - easier said than done. Much, much, much easier said than done. I'm starting to believe that time does nothing to one's emotions. 

That very day, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed, clicking on the various articles from shady websites that my "friends" share. As much as many deem them shallow, I have a particular liking for articles relating to relationships from sources such as Thought Catalogue and Elite Daily. Not everything they publish are relevant or "right" in many senses but there are some with points that draw me in and resonate very strongly with me. I stumbled upon one in my fragile state. 

"You're beginning to realize the opposite of love isn't hate, but rather, it's indifference."

"Hate and love are very similar. When you say "Ugh, I hate you so much," it's not what you mean at all." 

Hate, I've used this word a couple of times in jest. I know I don't exactly mean it, but at the same time it does give me a sense of satisfaction using that word when describing my feelings towards a person. It makes me feel powerful to think that I was in a position where I could "hate" another person. It makes me feel like I'm over everything and the only emotion I feel is one of "hate" - not the nicest of emotions, but it beats appearing weak and pathetic. But yes, "hate" is perhaps my own way of shielding my own emotions, it's a way of masking what I really feel in the harshest way possible, so that no one doubts me when really, it just shows how much I care, so much so that I'm experiencing something right on the end of the spectrum. 

What I should've been aiming for wasn't to hate, but rather to be indifferent, but that's even more challenging. And that really sucks. I am once again at a loss and I honestly don't think anyone else can help me apart from myself. 


In other news though, school starts tomorrow and I am actually quite excited to get back into routine, and to be motivated to study again. I have wallowed in enough self-pity to last me for the rest of the year. Now it's time to master the art of indifference and to not make the same mistakes as I did last year. 

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