It's been about 10 years or more since I started this blog.
This place, where I take it upon myself to make it a safe place, contains stories and poems of painful heartbreaks and fears that I may have never told anyone about. Some were scenarios I created to mirror how I was feeling, some were a cry or a prayer to beg for either the pain to end or for the worst to make sense.
If I was not marking myself to function, I was here hoping that my pain would turn into some sort of art that I would later appreciate when I am older. I am glad that I wrote about it here because where would I be if I didn't write it hoping that someone in the world, somewhere would read it.
Since I started working in 2016, I know I have written less and less with almost every post starting with "I know I haven't written in a long time...". Somehow I have found my way back here again. I feel like a different person compared to the hopeless romantic that poured her heart out on the keyboard. I can't say for sure if this is a better version of myself because I don't believe I feel things to its highest intensity anymore. There is definitely a romantic side of being so emotionally in tune with happenings. I don't dislike being as dismissive as I am now but I do miss being able to fall in love with everything generally.
I have suffered a few more heartbreaks that I didn't document here. I don't know if I wish I did or not. Even though I don't admit it but I still remember what that felt like. It was the last one that broke me. I wrote a few poems about it but I didn't dedicate anything to them. I usually dedicate out of love but for her, I excluded, out of spite.
I was so broken by the end of the two months.I genuinely just think that I was not ready to talk about it. I was also dealing with a situation at work and needed to focus on that while being broken about it. I remember having a panic attack that was so severe that I couldn't feel my hands and feet. I went and paid for an online therapist because I felt like I was toxic and going insane. My heartbreak with Cassandra was soul crushing with a gut wrenching scream and tight fists and elbows around your head. The kind that rips your heart right out of your chest and you feel like you can cry forever. This heartbreak, it left me hollow and empty. The hole in my chest feels like miles and miles of highway with only silence that seems to echo louder and louder. This one made me just sit on my bed in the dark and free fall all the way down to my stomach.
After that, everything in me just became different. Aside from rage and anger, I don't think my brain allows me to feel emotional pain anymore. Even just now, as I was trying to describe what I was feeling, half way freefalling, my brain stopped it. My feet feels like its on solid ground even though I know I am only standing on a platform above a never ending hole.
I know I approach relationships differently now. I approach friendships differently. I even approach the topics of my own emotions with myself differently. In the past year and a half of this, I learn how to be my own disruptive thoughts especially when I am pining for her. It made me really good at being in control of my own misery. Now I know how to allow or disallow wallowing. I mean, I had to figure out how to function. I had no one else.
With that being said, I miss being in love. I miss how my walls crumble when I am in love. Right now, I am too practical, too pragmatic. I keep to myself now after that heartbreak. I was never the type to be terrified of letting people in but now it seems that I may have developed the fear and this times the walls are concrete and steel. I know the vulnerability is still there because I still feel it when I think of Cassandra. I feel it when I remember what it felt like to fall in love with her. I don't think I have ever been this terrified to fall in love or to feel anything as intense as love.
I also believe that when I lock that part of myself up, I lose that sense of creativity. I no longer have poems or stories in me. The last time I felt it come back for a while was after close to two months of that breakup. I called Cassandra to wish her happy birthday after 2 years of not hearing her voice. I think I can write a story about that because when she said hello, I feel all the poems and stories I have ever wanted to write spill out of me. And I felt my heart go "There you are, I've been looking for you in everyone that I meet and everywhere that I go."
I hope this place remains to be a space where I am not judged. The reason I think that I don't share anymore is that I don't feel safe. The last time I tried to share that heartbreak, I was broken down even more. After that, I couldn't bring myself to be emotional with someone anymore. I don't talk about me being sad anymore, or depressed or heartbroken. I only talk about being angry because this was the only emotion that people somehow want to relate to either one way or another.
I am in the mood to slow dance with her. I think it always goes back to Cassandra because she was the only person I felt truly safe with. Or maybe it's because she was the first person I gave my entire heart to. Sometimes when I reply her messages, I would write out what I wanted to write to her before deleting it all and writing an appropriate response. Most of these messages were just different paraphrases of "Come back to me. I love you." Though a huge part of me has accepted that she is gone, it doesn't stop that 22 year old girl that fell in love from sitting on the front porch and waiting for her love to come back. Sometimes I would wait on the porch with her because I would miss holding her hand and having her asleep at the nook of my neck. Maybe if I wait long enough, she might actually come back to me.
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