July 4, 2009
This past week has been quite a trial for me. I've been spending all my nights trying to get senselessly drunk, sweating in Timezone with my colleagues, or watching French art films and other rated movies with friends. I even got myself drunk thrice inside the faculty room (don't report me please).
I keep dragging my friends to go out with me after work but most of them prefer to go straight home because they are really good family-loving kids. Thank goodness I've got friends like Mayang and April who allow me to share their beds (only literally) when I can't bear to spend the night alone in the silence of my room. My roommates are more of the quiet type so I cannot rely on them to help me through this difficult period in my life.
I still find myself weepy at times, especially when I'm out alone and listening to material for my upcoming album, "Heart Like a Wheel". And it takes ALL of me to stop myself from grabbing my fone and texting my ex-boyfriend that I'd give up my needs just for him to stay with me. Sometimes, I feel that I can take all the blame for every problem we will have and give up the essential things I need in a person just for him to stay with me. But that feeling doesn't last too long. And I still haven't cried that hard yet, which is a sign that maybe I am coping better than most people do.
Oh, and also, I realized something! That my ex was unfair in his reason why he wanted to break up with me. I wasn't thinking clearly that night but on looking back, breaking up with me about something I did more than a year ago was unfair. Yes, I was the one who came back to him last year BUT he took me back, and he can't just let me go all of a sudden when I didn't know that what I did was still an issue with him. I did offer that maybe I can try to make amends about what I did now that I was aware of what the issue was but he didn't give me that chance. So he was unfair.
Even so, I don't care. Much.
I have these vivid and morbid images in my mind about me hurting him. I want to feel my knuckles against his jaw. I want my rage to find release through my body. I imagine myself sneaking out of the motel room where I killed him. And then, I imagine how life would be for me in jail. Maybe as long as they'll leave me my guitar, or some pen and paper, and some books... Maybe I'll survive... In any case, they can't take my creative mind away from me.
Yes, despite all these entries about me being fine, I know that I am still not okay. But you know, one of the few things which help me get through is the fact that at least, things are once again, happening in my life and once again, I will grow from this experience.
Oh, I so despise weak people, reader. I so despise how they are too weak to reach out their hands when the chance for love or happiness is dangling in front of their eyes. I so despise those who choose safety everytime. I want to see them 10 years from now, when I can see the weak excuses for adults they've grown up to be and berate them for being fools not to follow my advice.
You will never learn about these things until they happen to you.
(I know. I've engineered this breakup just for something exciting to happen to my life. Happy now, Darwin? Are you happy now?)
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