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It’s been so long, I can hardly remember the last time I’ve posted on here. I won’t lie and say I don’t miss it. I have returned to blogging, but I have moved to a new home. It would mean a lot if you would follow me from this blog to the new one as I will continue to post new and similar content as I did here. The link is below! Thank you and farewell!
Countless of times we’ve witnessed these words fill the screen or at the end or the last pages of a book being read. They were the words that symbolized the perfect ending. The one that was meant to settle within each one of our hearts with content and satisfaction of a well time spent. Yet, these were the very words that haunted each and every one of us of the impossible. The expectation of a definite and permanent ending to our story. The perfect ending…
Recently these thoughts have been haunting me. Filling each and every crevice and the darkest corners of my mind to the point where they filled my vision as a blazing reminder of what I couldn’t have.
No, I’m lying. In reality, they had become the very axis on which my world rotated upon ever since I could remember. However, it was inevitable. The fairy tales, the happy endings, the storytelling, and even the movies were all too much. They were the infestation of the ultimate tragedy. The one that would destroy thousands of lives who would become victims of it. The beginnings of the expectation of a fairy tale ending. To this day, countless of men and women dream of the perfect companion. Smart, sweet, and of course hot to the point of fainting for their pure gorgeousness. I can attest to it. I have had my fair share of imagining the perfect man who would beat Cinderella’s prince charming any day.
So here I am, the utter realist who just can’t seem to stop dreaming even though being well aware that’s all they are, dreams. However, recently its become a lot more than that. Marriage or relationships were never an option for me. Even though others like my friends or relatives who discovered this thought I was either being a prude or immature, I couldn’t tell them that I had my reasons. That they didn’t know about my parents. In the end, I just let them think what they wanted. But, then there are classic fairy tales telling me that even in the most horrible tragedies, there is a silver lining. Although, they fail to implement reality after the hero and heroine embrace and kiss with utter happiness showing that love conquers all. Even though it might make me the biggest idiot, I still hope for the one that won’t be tied to me just for duty but will love me with passion and fire.
They say the best marriages are when the wife and husband are best friends. Yet, I still pray for the love that will make me so crazy that all reason and logic will escape from my mind and heart. Where for the first time, someone will drive me over the edge of a cliff with my eyes blinded with trust not caring if the fall kills me.
However, right now I’m bruised, wounded, and hurt. Broken and tore apart by betrayal, hate, and envy. Yet, I still find room to dare to hope that I will have my fairy tale ending even if it might make me out to be completely insane. But, I can’t find the need to be insulted if you actually do think so because I am pretty sure that I’m a bit crazy because that someone might never even come into my life and if he does, he might destroy me and leave me in ruins. That scares me even more than I hope. However, I still think. I still dream. And I still wonder what if…even if the fairy tale endings I was taught to believe in while growing up may leave my story to be just another name on a list of tragedies in this world, I still imagine and question about my perfect ending.
I had thought I had improved. However, here I am. Having wasted a whole day sunk in the vast waste of worried thoughts I created. Not someone else. But me. I whisper the words, one day at a time Fai. One day at a time. But it’s a harsh reminder for one like I who has a clumsy nature. I screw up so often. So, I freak out as a result so often. Today I could only just go home and cuddle under my blanket for a nap, succumbing to the pressure of sleeping away my fears and worries. Now, awake at night, it’s time to study.
Recent conversations have been deep. On the borderline of depressing or even morbid. Yet. Is it possible to even feel this light and happy.
Emotions. They’re so fickle. Just yesterday I broke down crying, filling my room with the ugly sounds of a dying cat. But today, or should I say this exact moment, I feel the complete opposite.
It’s hard to believe that in less than a month, another year will pass. I will be 19. For someone like me, whose an oldie at heart, time has always been relevant. Time has always fascinated but also scared the wits out of me. And right now time was moving too fast. Ironically this morning during work I was wondering why the day was moving so slowly. However somehow I find myself surrounded by night now. In a way, I’m already in the future. To think, in no time, I will be reading this as a 19 year old and that moment will be my present. And this moment will be my past.
It was unintentional but it was also my reality. The blog was still relevant to my life but the irony, it was I that was no longer relevant to the blog. I had lost my ability to create new content. I guessed, writer’s block?
I could do nothing but sigh. The painful sensation in my head was increasing by the minute. I knew what I needed. Peace. But only screaming children filled my vision. There were tears on the right. Spilled juice on the left. A hugging student coiled around my frame on the front and of course lastly my extra strict director right behind. I could almost feel her breathing down my neck. Was it possible to have this much rotten luck…
All I could think was that since my new job as a teacher’s assistant, I had truly realized how clumsy and mistake-prone I was. At previous jobs, I had only experienced and heard of how praiseworthy my potential and work was.But here. There was nothing but chaos.
But as I look at these children, I become confused. They were not the problem. I was. I had an unconditional love for them. Any child I see running down the street and a giddy smile appears on my face in response. Yet when I see them lie, hurt me, and just smile the next second I just don’t understand. I was bullied at their age and I’ve seen firsthand the cruelty of naive children.
Facing it again through the eyes of an adult, I don’t understand. I can feel my limit being reached, yet I still hold them when they cry and smile at them with affection.
Where is the innocence I seem so intent on doting upon?
: the state of being not guilty of a crime or other wrong act
: lack of experience with the world and with the bad things that happen in life
: lack of knowledge about something
Until I realize that it was wrong of me to presume. Innocence is not a badge of honor that gives a child a free pass. They are merely unexposed. In other words, in the adult world from one adult to another…ignorant. Their own state of bliss.
A year ago I felt a lurch in my chest by a comment made by my sister. I was saying something like how my forehead was huge or the how the pores on my nose were big and she replied, “you’ve gotten a lot more superficial.”
I froze. It was the first time she had said something like that. She is usually blunt and can sometimes be rude but superficial were never the words that people would use to describe me.
I just covered up the shock and replied that it’ll get better. It was no secret to her that I had only myself as company for the last few years and spending time alone with nothing keeping you busy made all the small things seem important, like my appearance.
But all she could say was, “I know, but it’s a lot worse.”
I didn’t know what to say after that.
The question that I had possibly become superficial during the process of healing myself made me feel as if I had sinned. It didn’t seem right, unfitting with the huge paralyzing situation I was in. I felt flawed, not on a deep level but rather shallow one.
I glanced at the girl before me. I didn’t know this chick well enough. We had gotten as comfortable as you can get with someone you only met twice in your life. However, it was like a routine.
“Have you ever dated anyone before?”
“No,” I replied. Laughing at her question. Again, I thought. I was in full blush mode, but I wasn’t feeling shy at all.
“I’m a virgin too if that’s your second question,” I said nonchalantly. There was no shame felt anymore from that statement. Eventually,you realize there was no point in feeling embarrassed. It’s a fact. It shouldn’t be a big deal.
“Oh, wow! That’s so adorable!”
I laughed along with her but out of absurdity. No, this situation was not okay. How I felt that moment was not at all alright in any way.
A classic motivational speaker will say to begin with self-love. In fact, even I would say right now is not the time for me to seek love outwards but rather inwards. However it’s a never ending battle in reminding myself everyday that I come first, while I’m alone now or even during any future love.
I won’t lie that compared to before, it’s often a lot easier than I would like. It’s become almost instinctual to put myself first. I’m more selfish in my materialistic wants. I feel less guilty in feeling normal human desires. And I’m more willing to stray my path as wanting to be an eternal angel.
In my imaginations I may be forever kind and temperless but reality has forced me to accept that I’m now tougher and less willing to put up with shit. Ironically, now my battle is to remind myself to be kind, to smile, and to forgive once in awhile.
I have learned to accept being flawed. However, learning to feel undesirable is a completely different matter.