This is a work of fiction (or so I would like to believe).

The thing is, you knew this was coming. You were in the zone, you had it all figured out, you put your defenses right how they should be—invincible and unyielding.

So you let him in thinking, this is no big deal. This is something you can handle. Ha! What a joke! Fate, my dear, has its own way of handling things and suddenly, you found the wall that you tried so hard to build, crumbling down.

But you were unfazed. You were confident that you are a big girl, nothing can hurt you (after everything that you went through), and besides, emotions are for kids.

What you have to understand though, is that love, an emotion that is universal, chooses no one. You were captivated by its simplicity. When you are with him, you thought to yourself, “Hey, this is easy!” You were content, you were satisfied.

However, you also learned that this emotion is complex. Whenever he is not around, there was a feeling of anxiousness, of distrust. Is he thinking about you? Is he with someone else? Is he really serious? (or worse) is he just playing you?

Which is screwed up because you shouldn’t be worrying in the first place! You had it all figured out, remember?

But feelings, just like this person, a wolf clothed in a sheep’s wool, cannot be trusted. The complexity of love won over its simplicity and there you were, on the ground, face down, defenseless, struggling to gain control.

You thought that diversion would do the trick and it will snap you back to everything that was, right before you met him—focused and worry-free. But you were just too demotivated to do anything. You won’t reach for the pen across the table, you won’t read a book, even if your life depended on it.

And you know what? You did this to yourself! You who were so sure of yourself until you decided to trust someone who just left you run over.

You cannot even find the right words to end this nonsense. Words that will give your reader a flicker of hope that everything has its own happy ending, because you know that at this point in time, you haven’t found yours yet.

Originally published last May 20, 2012, Some parts edited this July 7, 2012

—–

Sometimes, I hate the fact that writing is one of my signature ways in dealing with emotionally stressful situations. I wish I am more of a doer than a thinker (or more appropriate term: overanalyzer). I should learn how to act on things and take risks, instead of writing and being glum about them.

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One thought on “This is a work of fiction (or so I would like to believe).

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