"Life has ups and downs. When things keep going down, do a flip and turn it around."

Every time I am going through an emotional rollercoaster, I write, at the risk of putting myself out there, the risk of unveiling myself for all the world to see, at the risk of getting hurt even more. Although, I give myself time to buffer all the turmoil in my head, and my heart - enough time to let go off all the intense emotions, but still plenty of time for them to linger on and do some damages.

I've started to pull out my "In case of Emergency" playlist again - really didn't think I would have to do this so soon. I've been listening to music, looking through old text messages, chat conversations and emails, and broke down in between for a moment or two.

I have always thought that I am quite good at being emotionally detached to things, places and people; or thought that I've beaten myself enough to learn the lesson by now. The fact is, I am independent because I have to. I protect myself because I have to. Growing up having to live through the loneliest moments and hardest situations by myself. while having to put on the strong front for others, I have become how I am now. I learned by harsh reality that I had no one to rely on. Every time I let my guard down and try to give the softer side a chance to come out, nothing good came out of it. However, I admit that I do get attached and become more emotional than I want to. So the moment I feel like my life has fallen into a pattern and starts to become too stable, I switch it up, change things around, go to new places, cut tied strings and move on. All of that so I get into a habit of "getting bored easily", and keep myself under control.

Yet, once in a while, I've done it again.

I'd gone in it, as I usually go into theses things with guys, looking at them as nothing more than bystanders, as temporary witnesses to my life, and for about a few months it worked. Until I started to actually feel. And once I realized this, I felt like running as I always do when these things come about. I felt like running for the hills, for somewhere far away, for my freedom. Yet, with the fear of heartbreak still settling in my stomach, and the feeling of being emotionally scarred nostalgically rising in my throat...I went for it.

I wasn't in love. Let me make that clear.

I'm unsure why I even I let him in, maybe it was to be brave, to finally take a chance with something (or someone), thinking the conventional "you never know unless you try" way. Or maybe I thought I deserved to be happy for once. Or maybe I wasn't even thinking at all, just feeling it. I took a chance, and yet here I am, listening to depressing music and writing depressing entries. How many of these things I had, and will write year after year, I wonder.

Let me make it clear again, I was not "in love" even if it seems like it. I simply liked the guy, and the way I felt when I was with him. 


I've been through worse, I know, but this one really hurts. I think what hurts the most, is not that it's over, or that he still hasn't shown a single sign that he wants me back (or probably he never will). It hurts because I took a risk, gave myself too much credits, took on too much of a challenge, and got beat. Beat down pretty bad. And I know I will get over this one, as I have in the past, but for now I'm thinking of  those who say "Take risks! if you win, you will be happy; if you lose, you will be wise". Well I've lost, and I'm not feeling very wise, just hurt and a little bit hopeless. Because as much as I read quotes that cheer me on claiming "At least you tried!" I'd rather have not tried at all, I'd rather have stood on the sidelines safely and not have gotten hurt.

But it's too late for that now.

Actually, I take that back. Those months were the happiest months I have been for a very long time, and I would not want to change a thing. But now, I just feel drained and exhausted, and wonder if I would ever be able to do something like this again. I am pretty much back to my old self but still, I feel like a part of myself has gone. It was too much for me. I realize that I started losing control, and I couldn't be the calm and collected person I have always been. And I'm just simply scared that I would be one of those girls. I just can't be one of those girls, ever. Because it's not me, and if I can't be the one he liked me for, I should no longer be with him.

The biggest part of me wants him out of my mind, out of my heart, out of my bones, and I even get angry at myself for thinking of him, remembering him.

Missing him.

I'm not sure there is a point to this entry. I am not writing to ask him to come back to me, nor am I writing to tell him that I am finally moving on. I am simply writing because I still like him. I still like him and I hate myself for it everyday. And that I miss him. 

Been missing him since the moment I said it was over between us.


 Did I give up on us too early? 

Perhaps, after all, my feelings weren't strong enough. Or I wasn't strong enough to keep going, to keep us going.

[az]