Musings

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

Month: February, 2013

I fell in love with a fictional character.

by avrillorenzo

A little bird told me that you were pretty damn close with her today. Who is this her I speak of? Remember the time you said that this girl isn’t worth my time, that I should just leave things alone because she doesn’t matter? Yes, that girl. You were pretty damn close with her today.

I don’t really know how I feel about the whole thing. That’s the reason why I’m blogging about it. One thing I’ve discovered about myself is that when I blog, even though I don’t know what to blog about, the ideas just flood in and I reach a conclusion. So, here I am blogging my way to arriving to a conclusion.

A mystery, that’s what it is to me. It’s really hard to explain why such things occur, especially with you. You once told me things about her that weren’t really pleasant. Yes, they all came from you. But now that I hear that you and her are pretty chummy, maybe the world shifted its axis a bit. Or maybe your brain got jumbled or something, that you’re not in your right state of mind. I just don’t know what to make of the whole situation considering all that has happened, all that has been said. I’d hate to think that you’re a hypocrite but signs are pointing to that.

I wish I could ask you to clear things up for me. There is a call for clarity on my part. But it’s weird that I feel the need for clarification considering that I am not of any significance to you anymore. I’m not saying that in a ‘oh-woe-is-me’ tone. It’s a fact, the truth. I’ve accepted that already. You even forgot my birthday. There isn’t any tinge of bitterness in that statement. Okay, maybe a teeny-weenie bit. But overall, I’m okay. That just justifies that you’ve moved on.

Have I moved on? I don’t know. I don’t really think about it anymore. Sometimes, when you happen to cross my mind, that’s it; you just cross it. You don’t linger anymore. That’s immense progress. Maybe it helped that I rarely ever saw you. With that statement, I can’t even really say that I miss you. I don’t know. I guess I’m moving on. Like, legitimately moving on. And I’m happy about it.

But note that I am not completely and entirely over you. I don’t even know why any word of you still reaches me. I’m currently loaded with things I have to do and think about but you could always find your way into them. People still feel the need to tell me things about you. I’m not saying I don’t want to hear anything about you. Quite the opposite actually. I’d like to hear a few things about you. It assures me that you’re still alive. Yes, that sounds a tad bit cruel but that’s what it is. And I’d like to hear things about you for the purpose of testing myself if I still care. So far, things are going in my favor.

And alas, I’ve come to a conclusion: I’m bothered with you being pretty damn close to her but I’m moving on. And to add to that, maybe moving on isn’t that hard for me to do anymore.. Because all that is happening is proof that you are not the person I fell in love with.

A letter to no one not in particular.

by avrillorenzo

Hi there. I don’t know if you still remember me. You probably do, but I’m more of the ‘that girl’ said in such a passive tone in your present state of mind. How are you? And no, I don’t actually want to know because I pretty much can see how you are. Wait. Before you claim that I’m being too hasty about my assumptions and judgements about you, do acknowledge that I am unstable. Yes, that’s pretty much it. Oh, and don’t worry, I’m not saying that you’re probably miserable and all the crappy feels in the world. You actually seem okay. I hear you’re happy. That’s a good thing. And yes, I am lying.

I am actually upset that you’re happy. It’s not that I am saying that you don’t have the right to be happy. Nope, not at all. It’s just that you’re happy and I’m not. Between the both of us, I should be the one who deserves all of the happiness in the world. But no, you can’t always get what you want, even happiness. Sure, people would say that you need to move your ass to be happy, not just lounge about and wait for it to come. You need to deserve to be happy. But doesn’t that contradict the popular saying, ‘everybody deserves to be happy’. If I were to be spiteful, I’d say that you don’t deserve it. Nope, zippo, nada. You don’t deserve to be happy after all the bullshit, crappy awful feelings that you made another person feel.  But if I were to be honest, I can’t say that.

Yes, I am bitter. Yes, I am not over it yet.

Yes, I still love you. And I hate it.

Yes, I am lying.

About what? I don’t know.

But I actually do, and you’re probably assuming what it is I’m lying about. I’ll let you do what you want, since that’s all that I’ve been doing ever since I met you.

Okay, I admit. I let you take all the control between us and that bored your right away. That made you see that I wasn’t worth it. GOD THIS PISSES ME OFF. You always made me question my worth. How do you do that? Why do you still have this power over me? Why can’t you just.. Why can’t I just disappear? — See, this is your doing! I can’t blame you for anything! I defend you almost every chance that I get. Yes, I would say crap about you but then I’d counter the claim by telling stories of how great you are. Why? WHy? WHY?!

Why do I have to love you like this?

I hope to hear from you soon. But of course I won’t because this stupid letter is a blog entry and you have no idea of its existence. And it’s pretty crappy so nobody would see and read it because it’s incomplete and incoherent and just downright pathetic.

I miss you.

Love,

A.

The proof of my unsoundness via its manifestation in my homework.

by avrillorenzo

I had homework for my Spanish class one day. We were given two adjectives and we were to write a story about them. Here’s what I made and it was the only sad story in class. I think I have a problem.

Forgotten.

There was this one girl that everybody knew. Everybody knew her because she was moody. She would say one thing and then another, do one thing and then another, think one thing and then another. But I know her more for feeling one thing and then another. I am not going to say her name. She was in her early twenties: beautiful. She had long black hair and weighed just right. I knew her from afar, but I could tell that she was moody. She didn’t have a lot of friends, those who were tolerated her. It was sad, really. Nobody can really say that they knew her.

There was this one time when I actually saw her for who she was. I saw her with her friends, talking and laughing. Then, she frowned and walked away. I don’t really know what happened, but it bothered her. She then saw me looking at her and then she smiled before she did a rude hand gesture. I was offended at first, but then I didn’t mind it. I didn’t really care. But I saw her do things for other people and all of it was for them. In a weird disposition, her being moody was for herself. Nobody understood that. Nobody did, even after she died. It was tragic. The details I can no longer remember. Nobody can, and it is unfortunate. I guess I should have cared that one time when I actually saw her for who she was. I saw that her laughter with them was real, her smile for me was real. Her mood swings were for her and nobody saw past that. Because she was sincere with all the things she gave and did for others. And now nobody remembers her, the temperamental girl who was sincere. I am not going to say her name because I forgot.