A complete
stranger shouldn’t bother me. I should let go what’s never been mine.
Is this real or am I just fooling
myself? I know that the recent heartbreak took its toll on me. My first
heartbreak. Of course I had no idea how to cope with it. I did not cry, except
in cases when I already felt like suffocating. I just kept to myself. I think I’m
good at looking for ways to divert my attention. I always need to be
pre-occupied, or else I would miss him again. Then there would be that
overwhelming feeling to want to be in his presence, just to feel his caress,
just to hear his voice. I put my mind in a blank state or I crowd it with too
much things, either way, I am able to breeze through every single day, the hard
way.
I’m doing well. I’m moving on, or so
I thought I am. No one would ever understand how I feel. So, I concentrate hard
on blocking all the sentiments that creep through my system, my whole core. I
need to build walls around me, which would be hard enough, which would not topple
down in case I break the chains that restrains me and in case I pound hard against my
barriers. It is difficult.
I tried to have fun. I entertained
myself with other people, with other men, for the hope of being able to feel
alive again. Entertained in the sense that I talked and humoured with them. I
ordered myself to be happy. But, this isn’t me. It is just a façade to show the
world that I’m okay, that I’m not hurting. Did I do well? I will never know
what others think of my performance. In
the end, it’s me I cannot fake. I feel so fragile. One touch and I would
shatter into a million pieces.
Recently, I became fond of
somebody, a stranger at that. With my stalking skills, I learned his name and
what he could amazingly do. I am someone shallow. I could be easily swept off
my feet. With some superb talent or great personality, I would then be in total
awe. Then I would be really interested. Then, without that person knowing, I turn
out to be his instant fan.
My Stranger?
I don’t really know him for real. I don’t even understand myself why I feel
this way or why I like him that much. I thought that this was just me having
fun. At least I would have an inspiration in my super frenzied life. Why not?
Until one friend told me that he somehow resembled that of my past. Of course I
denied that. I said My Stranger is
totally different. The two of them are nothing like each other. But how should I
know? I convinced my friend, but then again, it was me who needed a lot of
convincing.
I
get nervous when My Stranger comes
around. My day isn’t complete without seeing him. Is this desperation in its
extreme? Then it dawned on me. My
Stranger was out of my reach. I had no hold on this stranger. Maybe I liked
him for real. Although, how could I say that? We didn’t even have a close
encounter except when he sat next to me once, or twice. Or maybe I was just
hoping that he would fill the emptiness that I carry around with me.
In
a snap of a finger, he can be with somebody he deserves, one meant for him. Who
am i? I’m just an ordinary lady. Nothing much. I don’t want to start with the comparisons
I normally do, else I drown in self-pity. It would be foolish of me to nurse
these feelings. Utterly foolish. Perhaps, it would be best to stop this nonsense
if I don’t want heartbreak all over again.
Maybe
it would be best to wear a more convincing mask. I need a mask that doesn’t
crumble to pressure, else it expose my raw insides. Then again, I have to let
go. It’s the most difficult thing in the world. I’ve tried. And I failed more
times than I could count. The only difference is, this time, I would let go of
something that’s never been mine.
I
know, I’m shallow.
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