All firsts are memorable, well at least the ones that are on either extreme - bliss or sorrow. It can be a first kiss or a first heartbreak and all other firsts in between. My memory is a bit hazy about most of the firsts that I've had in my life. The ones that I do remember are those pertaining to my travels to different countries and as can be expected, my first heart break. Well, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out because I have, for most of my posts, repeatedly admitted and elaborated my negative bias. So there.
I will not bore you with details about the first time my heart was broken. Suffice to say it was because of a boy. It was the first time that I truly felt love for someone other than myself - the kind that kept me awake at nights waiting for him to come home, frantically run around the neighborhood looking for the nearest pharmacy to buy him medicines when he's sick, and the kind that made me lose all sense of self. It came to a point that all my suicidal tendencies came knocking at my door again and I just had to call it quits before I lose myself any further and cross a line that should never be crossed. Thankfully, I was able to get out of that abusive relationship and lived to fight another day.
Unfortunately though, every relationship after that was pretty much the same with the way they tore my heart to pieces. Every pain and sorrow that I had to endure highlighted all my insecurities and made me question my worth. Each time a relationship failed, it made think that I am not worthy of anybody's love, that affection is nothing but a mere blanket that you wrap yourself with in order to get through a cold night. You will eventually get tired of using the same blanket every night so you venture off into the department store to get yourself a new one, a better one. That is what basically happened in all my failed relationships. They couldn't make it work with me so the logical conclusion was to get rid of me and find a better blanket, one that would give them more warmth at night when they need it the most.
I spiraled into an unhealthy habit of guilt-tripping myself into thinking that it was all my fault. I was too controlling, too headstrong and manipulative. I pushed them away with my unrelenting stance on matters that involved the relationship. There was no one else to blame but me. So, I vowed to never get hurt again. I prayed earnestly to have a heart of stone. For a while I thought it worked. I started seeing people again with a few one night stands here and there. The policy is no names, no numbers because if there were, I would have to associate the temporary elation of getting off with a face - a person with a name. I'd much rather just do it for fun and fun's sake alone. This way, I won't get hurt because I wouldn't expect anything out of it because it's a one time deal. I won't feel the need to remember everything that happened the night before becacuse there is no face to associate it with, because a face is what you remember once you learn of a person's name. The rules are clear. No grey areas. No reading between the lines. More importantly, no waiting in vain for a call or a text that may never come. No disappointment.
Then, there was this one time when I decided to let myself go and do away with my rules. I met someone online and decided to go over to his place to see him. One night was one too many. The first night led to a series of other nights. In my mind, I was only seeing him successively becacuse I just wanted to see if it will lead to anything. Take a chance for a change. Be brave for once. And, like anyone who braved rivers before, I crossed a line that I would have never crossed had I not done away with my rules. I asked him out, to dinner, a formal one where we get to see more than the four walls of his bedroom, the ceiling and his headboard. I was unceremoniusly rejected, not with malice, more of as matter-of-factly. That night as I went out his door, I decided not to see him again. I knew that I had already crossed a barrier that I knew wasn't meant to be crossed because we both knew the rule, it was just fun. However, it was starting to turn into something beyond fun so I had to stop myself because we weren't on the same page as he was so graciously clear about.
It shouldn't hurt, but it did. It was not the rejection. Neither was it my ego. It was the finality by which he said no - as if to declare a universal fact that is incontestable. It did not come as a shock because I was fully aware as he was that we were only having fun. But in having fun, I failed to notice that my inner longing was starting to surface and manifest itself in the way that I craved for "more." More than the walls of his room, more than the ceiling, and more than the headboard that I keep on hitting my head with as I gyriate to his command. Sadly, "more" was not in his cards.
I thought I had already transcended pain and sorrow; that I was already tough enough not to feel dejection. I wasn't. Clearly. Then it hit me. It doesn't matter how many times you get hurt because you will never get used to the pain. Every time your heart breaks will always feel like the first time. The pain is more than the loss of someone dear, it is the finality by which the one leaving seems to be indifferent about but the one left behind finds impossibly difficult to comprehend.
Losing is not in the cards for a queen either but the truth is not all battles can be won. It always is a matter of choosing which battles to fight; choosing which ones you are willing to forego but knowing with certainty which are your non-negotiables. A queen must never give up her kingdom - herself: because that is the only dominion that no one has any ascendancy to claim. She must never lose herself because that is all that she has. That is all anyone of us ever has. Ourselves.
I will not bore you with details about the first time my heart was broken. Suffice to say it was because of a boy. It was the first time that I truly felt love for someone other than myself - the kind that kept me awake at nights waiting for him to come home, frantically run around the neighborhood looking for the nearest pharmacy to buy him medicines when he's sick, and the kind that made me lose all sense of self. It came to a point that all my suicidal tendencies came knocking at my door again and I just had to call it quits before I lose myself any further and cross a line that should never be crossed. Thankfully, I was able to get out of that abusive relationship and lived to fight another day.
Unfortunately though, every relationship after that was pretty much the same with the way they tore my heart to pieces. Every pain and sorrow that I had to endure highlighted all my insecurities and made me question my worth. Each time a relationship failed, it made think that I am not worthy of anybody's love, that affection is nothing but a mere blanket that you wrap yourself with in order to get through a cold night. You will eventually get tired of using the same blanket every night so you venture off into the department store to get yourself a new one, a better one. That is what basically happened in all my failed relationships. They couldn't make it work with me so the logical conclusion was to get rid of me and find a better blanket, one that would give them more warmth at night when they need it the most.
I spiraled into an unhealthy habit of guilt-tripping myself into thinking that it was all my fault. I was too controlling, too headstrong and manipulative. I pushed them away with my unrelenting stance on matters that involved the relationship. There was no one else to blame but me. So, I vowed to never get hurt again. I prayed earnestly to have a heart of stone. For a while I thought it worked. I started seeing people again with a few one night stands here and there. The policy is no names, no numbers because if there were, I would have to associate the temporary elation of getting off with a face - a person with a name. I'd much rather just do it for fun and fun's sake alone. This way, I won't get hurt because I wouldn't expect anything out of it because it's a one time deal. I won't feel the need to remember everything that happened the night before becacuse there is no face to associate it with, because a face is what you remember once you learn of a person's name. The rules are clear. No grey areas. No reading between the lines. More importantly, no waiting in vain for a call or a text that may never come. No disappointment.
Then, there was this one time when I decided to let myself go and do away with my rules. I met someone online and decided to go over to his place to see him. One night was one too many. The first night led to a series of other nights. In my mind, I was only seeing him successively becacuse I just wanted to see if it will lead to anything. Take a chance for a change. Be brave for once. And, like anyone who braved rivers before, I crossed a line that I would have never crossed had I not done away with my rules. I asked him out, to dinner, a formal one where we get to see more than the four walls of his bedroom, the ceiling and his headboard. I was unceremoniusly rejected, not with malice, more of as matter-of-factly. That night as I went out his door, I decided not to see him again. I knew that I had already crossed a barrier that I knew wasn't meant to be crossed because we both knew the rule, it was just fun. However, it was starting to turn into something beyond fun so I had to stop myself because we weren't on the same page as he was so graciously clear about.
It shouldn't hurt, but it did. It was not the rejection. Neither was it my ego. It was the finality by which he said no - as if to declare a universal fact that is incontestable. It did not come as a shock because I was fully aware as he was that we were only having fun. But in having fun, I failed to notice that my inner longing was starting to surface and manifest itself in the way that I craved for "more." More than the walls of his room, more than the ceiling, and more than the headboard that I keep on hitting my head with as I gyriate to his command. Sadly, "more" was not in his cards.
I thought I had already transcended pain and sorrow; that I was already tough enough not to feel dejection. I wasn't. Clearly. Then it hit me. It doesn't matter how many times you get hurt because you will never get used to the pain. Every time your heart breaks will always feel like the first time. The pain is more than the loss of someone dear, it is the finality by which the one leaving seems to be indifferent about but the one left behind finds impossibly difficult to comprehend.
Losing is not in the cards for a queen either but the truth is not all battles can be won. It always is a matter of choosing which battles to fight; choosing which ones you are willing to forego but knowing with certainty which are your non-negotiables. A queen must never give up her kingdom - herself: because that is the only dominion that no one has any ascendancy to claim. She must never lose herself because that is all that she has. That is all anyone of us ever has. Ourselves.
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