Musings

I feel as much as I think. I do both excessively.

Month: September, 2012

by Thought Catalog

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by avrillorenzo

Incoherent thoughts on irony.

by avrillorenzo

A girl is an epitome of irony.

A girl is complicated but simple.

A girl wants big things but is satisfied with the little ones.

A girl is happy but sad.

A girl is ironic.

What a profound way of starting another blog entry, yeah? That’s how I roll, I guess. And funny enough, I don’t know if that introduction will have any relevance to this blog post. I don’t actually have a concrete idea of what to blog right now. I just felt the need to blog.

Maybe I should start with how I’m doing. Yeah, that’s a nice place to start.

Hello. I’m recovering.

Yes, recovering. Not okay. It’s like I just have to accept things as it is. Sometimes, we just need to accept things even though we don’t completely understand. Spare yourself from pain. You’ll figure it out someday. But that does not exactly speak the truth. Because, the things we ought to understand tend to creep up on us and catch us off guard and we end up thinking of them excessively. And with that comes pain, though not as intense as it would seem. There’s just this little prick that you can’t shake off. It’s not a huge deal but it’s bothersome because it’s there. What comes after that? Bitterness, I guess.

Hello. I’m recovering and a tad bit bitter.

All of the things I said were in reference to me. I’m vain like that. Or maybe that doesn’t qualify as vain since this is my blog. I’m a tad bit bitter, yes. I get seriously affected when I see couples being sweet in public because we were once like them. I get seriously affected when I hear an exchange of wishes of love and promises of forever because we once shared them. I get seriously affected when I see couples share a sweet kiss because we once had them. We once had them and I can’t help but remember. And, of course, reminiscing makes things worse. Why? Because that’s all you can do… Reminisce. You can’t make more of those moments and all you have left are your memories of them.

Like the first time he held my hand.

The first time he whispered my name.

The first time he took me in his arms.

The first time he looked me in the eyes

The first time he kissed me.

There’s just this unsettling pain that you feel when you reminisce. And I think that’s the worst kind of pain. It’s unsettling. Things that are unsettled are the hardest to sink in.

There is nothing I can do about it at the moment.

I feel so bloody pathetic. I keep on spouting crap that I’m okay and that I’m happy, but here I am blogging about what I’m going through. Hypocrisy at its finest. Mother fucking damn it. I’m a mess, all over the place. Lost. Well, not exactly lost. There’s a path in front of me, a path to move me forward and I’m still weighing if I should put one foot in front of the other or not. It’s as if I don’t have the will to move on. Like I don’t want to. Because I just accepted things as it is with no further explanation. And we all know that the only way to fully accept things is to fully understand things. There wouldn’t be any room for questions or doubts when you fully understand.

So now, here I am, questioning everything. The more I question, the more I don’t understand. The more I don’t understand, the more things become harder to accept. The more things become harder to accept, the more bitter I get.

A girl is an epitome of irony.

A girl wants to move on but doesn’t want to.

Not yet, at least. Unfortunately.

We happened.

by avrillorenzo

A movie was all it took for me to do what I had to do. A movie was all it took for me to cry.

Finally, my eyes are dried up. I’ve cried all the tears I could for the whole thing. I’ve grieved enough. Now, I can finally breathe. I feel so light and airy and I can really smile now.

I’m okay now because finally I was able to ugly cry. It was 2 in the afternoon, my curtains were drawn so my room was relatively dim and I just finished watching a movie. Slowly, it started to creep up on me until it took me by surprise and I just cried like crazy. Good thing the people in the house were taking naps. I ugly cried, sobbed like crazy and heaved. I was curled up in bed with my pillow and stuffed bear squished to my chest.

After what seemed like an hour but was actually just minutes, I pulled myself together. I smoked two cigs, drank 3 glasses of water, took a cold shower and brushed my teeth. Once settled in my room, I set my playlist in random and just listened to the songs. Most of the songs were sad but they didn’t matter as much anymore.

Acceptance.

I looked back on the whole thing, from start to finish, and smiled. At least it happened, right? At least I was able to feel that much again. At least I was able to have someone, even just for a short while. No matter how much I wanted him to stay, he didn’t. There’s nothing I could really do about that. Everybody has their own choice. No matter how involved you are, you’re not the one who makes his decision. Sure, you can influence it.. But bottom line is, whatever his choice is, you have to accept it. That’s the right thing to do. That’s the mature thing to do. Being mature makes things easier, I guess.

Maybe it’s supposed to be this way. Okay. I can handle that.

At least I loved and was loved in return. That’s enough.

I’m happy it happened. We happened.

That’s enough. 🙂

Stages of moving on: I think this is denial.

by avrillorenzo

I wonder how I’d feel or think about myself every time I step out of my own entity and watch myself, curled up on the bed and crying my eyes out. I’d pity me. I’d feel sorry for me. Then, I’d find it pathetic and vouch never to be like that ever. But that’s the problem. I am like that… Like this.

It’s over. It really is.

It’s weird. I felt like I’ve been upset enough for it already even before it ever happened. 3 weeks. 3 weeks of uncertainty, of pain and tears. I bet if you actually knew me and saw everything, you’d think the same. I’ve been upset enough for the break-up even before it ever happened.

But now that it’s actually over, it seems as if it wasn’t enough. The only upside to this is that I know how to handle this phase, the break-up phase. I have steps or I know what to do to get by. So far, things are working. But, of course, there’s always a glitch. There’s never an easy way out of a break-up. Here’s the thing; I need to get really angry to fully move on. Because, for me, it’s in anger that I am able to release everything. And after that, I’m all good and ready to move on. The problem right now is that I don’t want to get angry.

Getting angry would mean that I am admitting that it actually is legitimately over between us. And yes, I think I’m still holding on. My friend’s are getting tired of it, actually because I could just relate every single thing to him. So yeah, I am holding on. Like it’s just my pinky finger hooked on him, but it’s hooked on right. And besides, I don’t want to get angry with him.

That’s one of my masochistic relationship problems. No matter how much I’ve been wronged in a relationship, I always find a way to put the blame on me. And I always do. For realizes. It’s crazy, I know. Well, that’s just how I’m wired I guess. That’s the reason why I have a hard time getting mad. And that’s why when I get mad; I know I’m over the whole thing.

But what do you do if you don’t want to?

Pretend.

by avrillorenzo

Kiss me… One last time. Kiss me with all you’ve got. Pretend that you love me because I know you don’t anymore.

Skip the teasing and grab me by the waist. Pull me close. Then, move your hands up, lingering a few moments on the sides of my body before reaching my face. Cup one side gently and put the other hand behind my head. Look into my eyes and be honest. Pretend to be honest. Say it with your eyes. Say that you love me. Kiss me… One last time.

Whisper my name. Moan my name. Pull me even closer. Move your hands all over my body and make sure to linger in some areas. Leave an imprint, a memory. Slowly, move your lips against mine. Caress my tongue with yours and let’s battle for dominance.

Kiss me like you’ve never kissed me before. Kiss me as if it were the first time. Soft, gentle then hot, passionate the next. Kiss me as if time doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters. Just you and me and this one last kiss. Give me at least that… I feel like I deserve it.

Don’t hold back. Give your all. It’s hard, I know, to give your all when you don’t want to.

Pretend.

Pretend that you want me more than anything.

Pretend.

Pretend that this is the greatest thing in your life.

Pretend.

Pretend you love me so much.

Just pretend.

And I’ll pretend. Pretend you still love me. Pretend. Pretend that you never hurt me. Pretend with just that. Because I will give my all. I’ll kiss back… One last time.

Kiss me… One last time.

One last memory… The memory I’ll love and hate the most. It will be the most wonderful kiss I will ever have. So full of love, of passion, of you. Fireworks on a grand scale. Like the fireworks in the Beijing Olympics. It will be the first and last of its kind. You will kiss me like you never did before. Like you never did and not like I always do.

Last. I say that because I know you’ll never kiss me again. Those lips that once caressed mine will be caressing another in due time. And I’m sure it will be more than what we ever had. Because you’ll kiss her with all you’ve got. As if it were the last time. But I’m damn sure it wouldn’t be.

Kiss me… One last time. Kiss me with all you’ve got. Pretend that you love me because I know you don’t anymore. Maybe you never did.

Her.

by avrillorenzo

The light,

it dances

between her fingers.

Her hand in the

air capturing

the wind

bare.

Her eyes

lingering

from one cloud

to another

never fazed

by the striking

light of

the sun.

Her nose

all red

with the bite

of the damn

cold breeze,

making it hard

to breathe.

Her lips

bled of

biting,

all wet

with the salted

taste of tears.

Her breath,

Painful,

so shallow

and stolen.

Misery

at every

inhale.

Her brain,

so frazzled

confused

by the multitude

of blacks

and whites, she

fears she

will

faint.

Her heart,

oh dear heart,

beating slowly

and silent.

Blind,

breathless and

broken beyond repair.

Her face.

Her blink.

Her sigh.

No one knew

anymore.

 

Where is she?