A Breakup Story

I'm in a dark room as I type this, mulling over the right things to say, roughly five months after I decided to end this blog on my own terms. I ended this blog, the same way I ended all my other relationships--upon my discretion, whenever I stopped having fun. I was always the one who called the shots. The guy who always got what he wanted.

I have been planning to write for a long time now, but I had my reservations. What would I write? How could I put the pain to intelligible words, if I could put it to words at all? How could I simulate the heavy, empty feeling of losing someone that meant so much to me? Would I choke back tears as I talked about the anguish and hopelessness?

To answer the last question, I didn't choke back the tears--because there weren't any to begin with. What was left after a seemingly decent closure (a word I am trying to reconcile my thoughts with, because it's a contradiction in itself; what's to close when both parties are no longer open to the possibility of real reconciliation, which in essence means getting back together?) is a curious feeling, betrayal, some sort of anger.... in me, at least.

But I guess, in some way, that's how I always felt. Betrayal, whenever he wouldn't keep a promise he thought I forgot. Sadness, whenever something happened that confirmed my suspicions. Anger, when I saw myself in him--the worst part of me, that is.

All the good and optimistic promises of love... I might've lost it much earlier than he did. I possibly lost it the moment I flirted with another guy for the first time, and the second, then the third...followed by a series of men, the memory of whom is already a murky vision in my head. I was merely holding on way before he pulled the plug. Much earlier than when he said that he'd fallen out. Was I still in love when I read all the conversations he had had with other guys? Or was it pride that drove me through the roof?

In the small cozy restaurant where we talked, as I looked at him with a significant amount of loathing, I can't help but wonder in retrospect: was I still in love with him then? Because all I can remember was wanting to punch him in the face, get the entire fiasco done and over with, send him off to the fuck hole where he came from.

Love is the primary controlling factor in every relationship, right? If it is, then I would say with certainty: I did love him. It was an interesting mix of shame and romance, and we both couldn't handle it. Could we? Even if we tried a bit harder? I guess not.

They say a break-up is never mutual, and it always ends up with one person feeling like complete crap. I'm owning up to that role, to the satisfaction of all the others I've broken up with on my own terms. Here I am, finally the person who was abandoned, not the person who left.

This is what I've been reduced to. Alone in a dark apartment room. Trying to make sense of what happened days before I'm writing this. For the very few people who know, and have asked, I am simply at a loss for words. What will I say? How do I explain the downfall of a relationship I seemed so sure of? Do I cry and grieve in public, like in the movies? Do I reply to his messages, allow him to leech off my emotional residue?

There were many questions--there still are, actually. But for now, I'm going to satisfy myself with a definite answer to a question I've been trying to shove aside these past few days: are we over?

Decidedly so.

Standstill

Is this what you call a standstill?

I have so much to do: read all my backlog cases for Obligations and Contracts, a weekend away from the make-or-break exam; finish all the articles I'm supposed to do; work on a reviewer; and, pull a group together for a class presentation.

And, with all these under my belt, what exactly have I accomplished?

Nothing.

I'd finish all of these if I started working now, keep moving forward like I always used to, but I can't. What I inconveniently have instead are the following: a sad, splitting headache and growing insecurity--both of which I've never had in this degree before.

I have been opening my ideas and emotions less and less to people, and the only ones who are there for me...well, I can't even point out where the problem begins myself, much less point it out to them. I suppose I do have a penchant for being irrationally emotional at the most random moments.

Or am I? Are these emotions really that baseless? Am I wanted enough? Am I doing the right thing? Am I cut out for this? Do I quit? And no, I'm not just referring to one idea.

In one way or another, it's sad. My acads is the only thing I have going for me, and I'm so close to botching it up. I have to get out of this stressful pattern, really. These are one of the times when I just want to be as upfront and open about my emotions as other people are. These are one of the times when I wish I would stop being so freaking uptight.

And because I know I can't for the simple reason that I don't know how I can be, the only truth I can come up with right now is: I am on a standstill, and I must get out.


PS. This blog has gotten me through the worst times, and I think it's cool how I was able to sustain something for more than almost eight months. But it has served its purpose and is beginning to be more trouble than it's worth. One of these days I'll shut down this blog: it's a question of when, not if.

Firework

It's 12:10 of Saturday, and I'm studying crimes against public order. I've been reading for about five hours now, and only stopped to eat, talk for around 10 sweet minutes with him, and take the short ride home. I also listened to a few clips of American Idol, just so I can have some sort of diversion. All signs point to the fact that I will probably be staying up for a while longer: there are around 20 cases left and a good number of pages left in my Criminal Law book.

The drudgery and stress of law school, and I've mentioned this an awful lot of times already, can get unnerving. Whenever it gets to me, I try to remember what he told me: to think of the positive. And it is with such positive thoughts that I eventually feel better. I realize how lucky I should be for being here...and how even luckier I am for having him.

And when I come to think of it, there's so much more to be positive about. So fine, maybe there were days when my recitations were not at par, or when my classmates were being particularly competitive or critical. On the whole though, I'm in a pretty good place. And here's the cheesy part: I'm in love, and it feels really great!

Fine. I'm not driving at any particular point here. I guess I'm just trying to find a way to release my thoughts without having to actually interact. Everybody around me just seems so stressed lately. And also, a way to share this video I found on the Internet: