The girl in the striped pajamas

Clearing the table

The Chef and I have not talked to each other for months. At first I thought it was just some issue with the bank, identity theft, etc. but as time progressed, things have not gone back to normal and now sources tell me that he is with someone. I’m happy for him, I really am. I mean, there are only a handful of people that deserve to find love in this world and The Chef certainly should get what’s coming to him.

I am not delusional to think that he’s obligated to tell me anything. I am not and cannot be angry by the sudden falling out because I have no right to be. But I am, however,  saddened by the fact that he chose the cowardly way out and just opted to cut me off completely. I thought we were at least friends and friends, to a certain extent, are honest with each other.  I think I’m a cool chick who doesn’t lose her head over something that I foresaw. I just don’t appreciate people being dicks with me. I think that’s what hurts the most – the fact that you’re level-headed and logical yet people treat you like your some kind of goddamned child who’s so fucking naive and should be sheltered by the realities of this world. The truth between me and The Chef is that I was just a verbal/mental/emotional exercise to prepare him for someone else. And that was the truth with The Unhelpful Git and that was the truth with The Douchebag. I can handle the truth. Why can’t you? *sighs*

Clearly, it’s time to throw this rotten shit out.

Truth Time

It was bound to happen,
the end of an era as I knew it,
the passing of time,
the turning of the tides.

I’ve called it a different thing everytime,
but it always means one thing.
I’ve romanticized it,
and glamourized it,
but in the end, one stark truth
stood out:
It was a Goodbye.

Much as I want to stay blissfully
carefree, I’m being forced to grow up.
I’m being forced to handle things
without the whimsical optimism of a little kid.

And (long, deep breath) it’s tough.
But for my sake, for our sake,
I’ve got to toughen it out.
I’ve got to start handling things
more maturely.

So, I’m squaring my shoulders,
stepping back with great difficulty.
The fantasy is getting frayed
around the edges,
and though a large part of me
will still (forever) hold on to the dream,
the truth rings loud and clear:
it’s time for Real Life.

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Image found here.

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Truths from Whoopsydaisies

La vida es sueño

“I don’t know what i want.”

“I’m a walking doubt…”

“Relationships don’t work all the time. And people get back on their feet and try to find the one that does.”

“what we had wasn’t real”

FINALLY. Now we know how to get over this bugger. Thank, GOD. The whole ordeal was kinda getting to me for a second there. What have we learned from this mistake, children? Never show your hand and keep your poker face. Else, you’re just a sucker waiting to be robbed of everything you have, including your dignity and pride.

In true fashion, I leave you an excerpt from Spanish playwright Pedro Calderón de la Barca, La vida es sueño (Life is a Dream), which, I think, is only appropriate to celebrate this joyous occasion. (And just in case you’re curious about the play, here’s a LINK to the English translation over at Project Gutenberg. Go click! It’s free! And educational!)

I dream that I am here
of these imprisonments charged,
and I dreamed that in another state
happier I saw myself.
What is life? A frenzy.
What is life? An illusion,
A shadow, a fiction,
And the greatest profit is small;
For all of life is a dream,
And dreams, are nothing but dreams.

No one can live up to a dream. And the dream is .. well .. a dream. We all need to wake up from it, however way we can and go on with life – we cry, we move, we change, we cope, we settle. I don’t want a dream. I want to have a reality that comes with lows. I want that reality that has lazy Monday blues, stressful Tuesdays, hurried Wednesdays, thirsty Thursdays, pasta/wine/movie on Fridays, football matches on Saturdays, grocery shopping on Sundays, and a whole lot of reality in between. And maybe, when the realities have become a part of life, when that dance has been perfected over time, I can see glimpses of the past dream and say to myself, “Why bother dreaming? This reality is so much better.”

*hits DELETE*

In hindsight, I think that I am grateful The Douchebag was a douchebag. I don’t think I would have survived the heartache of knowing that the person I spent six years with and contemplating a whole lifetime with would just up and leave me and my child for someone else. Granted that what he did was beyond forgiveness, I am just happy that he left me the way he did – battered, bruised, and bleeding. The immense pain had helped me detach from him and the situation far quicker than any coping mechanism ever invented. My pride had also curbed my tears and dragged my sorry ass out of bed. Getting over the breakup was, by far, the hardest thing I had to do .. until now.

Moving on from a crumbling, crushing relationship is easier than one that is perfectly fine. It’d be easier to run away from a building that was about to come down on you and kill you than fleeing one that had no problem whatsoever, except for the tiny fact that you just had to leave it. I suppose that there was greater heartache over The Unhelpful Git Saga than there was The Douchebag simply because the former was not a douchebag. Would I have prefered that he had been one? Of course not. I do not wish that men instataneously turn into assholes the moment they want to break up with someone because that would just leave us with assholes and/or cowards. It’s just a different challenge in getting over this particular breakup altogether. There are elements that make this reminiscent of previous ones, but there are also tiny details that make it totally different from everything else. There is no black and white, there is no one in the right or wrong, it’s just a whole gray area that I don’t know how to deal with. No matter how I try to scream at it, cry over it, or drink it away, in the morning, it’s still a fucking gray area.

The situation is drab, dreary, in a perpetual limbo perhaps because I let it to be. But I’ve been in limbo long enough. Eventually, my pride will, once again, have to get me up out of bed, wash my face, and send me off into the real world where my feelings do not matter .. should not matter. But as for now, I still am in that gray goop, lost in my own selfish thoughts. No, there is no need for another Intervention. I think I’m good with one intervention a lifetime.

I just need to purge.
I just need to forget.
I just need to erase.

Excuse me while I start with his phone number.

“Parang may amnesia”

“I think you should move on. I think we both should.”

AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Tangena, kung may award sa mundo para sa mga taong gago, isa na siya sa mga makakatanggap nito. Hay nako. Maraming tanga. Maraming gago. Maraming putanginag hayup sa mundong bigyan ka ba naman ng ganyang linya. Alam mo anong pwede mong gawin sa linyang yan? Saksak mo sa putanginang baga mo. Leche. Panalo ka na, okay? Winner ka na. Linya pa lang .. shet. Shet ka talaga. Pero sige, kung ganun eh di ganun. Wala na akong ibang magawa pa. Binigay ko na ang lahat-lahat. Sobra-sobra na nga eh. Oo, hindi sa kasi hinigi mo pero kusang-loob ko binigay. Siguro sabihin na lang natin na isang malaking pagkakamali ‘to. Ang galing kasi ng payo mo eh. Parang hindi ko naisip yun diba? Wow ha! Yun lang pala ang solusyon eh! Pucha. Pinahirapan ko pa sarili ko. Galing mo, mehn.

Sige, sige. Ganun na lang gagawin natin. Mahirap talaga kasi akong mahalin kasi: 1) masama akong tao, 2) masyado akong komplikado intindihin, 3) hindi ko alam ang gusto ko, o 4) lahat ng dahilan sa mundo. Sabi nga nila, kung gusto, maraming paraan at kung ayaw, maraming dahilan. Eto na po. Magmo-move on na po. Kala mo naman kagwapuhan at kabaitan na kelangan iyakan. Shet ka!

Shempre kunwari may sinabing dapat matagal nang nasabi pa pero nung pinapasabi ito ulit, papilit pa siya. Nge. Gago. O ano ngayon? Aanhin ko yung mga sinabi mo? Parang tanga. Napakalaking tanga. Ewan ko ba sa’yo. Wala akong panahon pilitin kang mag-mature. Bahala ka sa buhay mo. AT SHEMPRE KELANGAN ONE YEAR FROM TODAY DIBA?! PESTE!

Taon-taon na lang kelangan nating gawin pero wala akong magagawa. Ganun talaga ang nangyayari. Marami lang talaga akong taeng nakikilala. Pakshet. (Sana pwedeng Ingles itong isulat kasi mas marami akong murang alam sa lingguaheng yun pero hindi pwede kasi mahiyain akong tao. WAHAHAHHAHA!) Yung yakap pala ni Mrs. Lovely Bouquet ay foreshadowing na parang sabi, “Sorry ha. Mahal ka niya pero di ka ganun kamahal. ” Kumbaga sa Ingles, “He’s just not that into you.” O. Nagkaroon bigla ng English ang post ko. Putangina wala na akong pakialam. Ikanta na lang natin ito sa tono ni Avril Lavigne kasi tigasin siya palibhasa marunong siyang maglagay ng eyeliner at kulayan ang kanyang buhok. Isa pa yung parang tanga.

FORGOTTEN
by Avril Lavigne

I’m giving up on everything
Because you messed me up
Don’t know how much you
Screwed it up
You never listened
That’s just too bad
Because I’m moving on
I won’t forget
You were the one that was wrong
I know I need to step up and be strong
Don’t patronize me
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

[Chorus:]
Have you forgotten
Everything that I wanted
Do you forget it now
You never got It
Do you get it now

Gotta get away
There’s no point in thinking about yesterday
It’s too late now
It won’t ever be the same
We’re so different now
Yea yea yea yea yea

[Chorus]

I know I wanna run away
I know I wanna run away
Run away
If only I could run away
If only I could run away
Run away
I told you what i wanted I
I told you what i wanted
What I wanted
But I was forgotten
I won’t be forgotten
Never Again

Tama. May Gago sa Madrid.

Mirage

Last night, I was hurrying along the streets on my way to meet a couple of friends. I took the underpass and emerged on the other side, breathless from the walk up. As my eyes worked their way from the steps I took to the street coming up before me, I thought I saw him. My breath stopped. Same shoes, same shirt, same hair, same swagger. I stopped mid-stride and  closed my eyes for a second. It could NEVER be him. It would NEVER be him again. I took a deep breath and without even bothering to look at the doppleganger, trudged onwards with the cold winds whipping about me.