so while in the library
i thought of many things
trying to be intellectual insightful inspiring

to be special to anyone who mattered

to what purpose?
the gnawing sound of my handphone,
buzzing desperately atop my books
drilling the table with a frenzy

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and in reading it -
all is shot to hell

for what does it matter

anymore.

that was a crap poem. i don't know what's gotten in to me. well, actually i do know. and i know something else - i can't write. or at least, i can't write poetry anymore. it's too painful, too painful to see it all screw up like that.

falling in love is glamorous hell

says Carol Ann Duffy. i'm not sure she's got it completely right - falling out of it hasn't proved any better, judging from the way things are now.

there are a good many things i thought of today. things i wanted to say. things that might be important and enriching. but i can't say them. because right now, all that comes to mind is an emptiness - an immediacy that affects me deeply. all those thoughts, all those theories may be pretty and ponderous - but to what purpose? the slate is washed clean by a single blow to the heart.

for a reason i am unable, yet able, to fully fathom, my heart aches. maybe i should have said some things to you. maybe i should have played my cards differently [as though you were a gamble - were you? or am i imagining things]. it got to the point where it was an ALMOST. i was ALMOST happy. i was ALMOST sure. everything was an ALMOST with us. things aren't an ALMOST for you anymore - and now, in turn, they aren't for me either.

why this inexplicable sadness when nothing belonged to me in the first place? almost doesn't count, it doesn't, much as i liked to believe it did. my strong reaction, this deep seated sadness, this EMOTION is utterly illogical, but yet ... it's real, it's true.

and already, in the midst of saying all this as though my heart has been smashed to smithereens, i know equally well that while this hurts like a less than glamorous hell - life goes on. i will forget this eventually, with time, just as i've forgotten most heartbreaks completely. i've questioned my past and wondered why i reacted so strongly - was it worth that much sadness? was i that much in love to feel that way? - it puzzles me how i've reacted before, when i look back.

so i cannot say i am all too ripped up about this. because while my heart feels the pain, my mind still works well enough to tell me i will survive [which is strange, because the mind doesn't usually work on occasions of heartbreak]. i will wake up tomorrow. i will live to see another sunset. i will be alive, even if i may not be happy - and happiness may be worth everything, but i'm willing to take the chance of life in order to try and experience it [for what good is dying? no love to be found there, nor joy, but only the regret of a life half-lived].

maybe i've never allowed myself to feel that much. nothing has left a scar yet, and i find myself thinking that perhaps i just don't have the capacity for it - for loving completely, for throwing myself over the cliff because of a broken heart. sure, at that point i thought i did, i thought the pain was so great i could die. but after reflection, i find it was a trifle, that it meant almost nothing and that i recovered without a stitch. does this mean i did not love deeply enough - after all, if i put my all into it, wouldn't i be completely destroyed by now?

These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

are these really words to live by? i think i loved moderately enough this time, and i still feel the familiar sense of desolation, though not expressed as dramatically as before. no tears this time, just a dull ache in the heart - which proves more an annoyance than a sharp jab. the sharp jabs of the past evoked an intense pain for that flash of time and then go away, this dull ache lingers and is far worse.

but with me, there's always self-preservation involved. and i've not been able to go that extra mile for you, and believe me, i'm sorry about it - sorry for myself.

so i will move on to the Next. truth be told, i'm scared of this ability to move on, of this 'survival' mindset - i do want to be vulnerable, i do want something that is no-holds-barred, i do want all that and i'm afraid i will never find it, never feel strongly and permanently enough about anything. the very fact that i can write this demonstrates my will to go on. maybe i haven't found the right YOU, maybe. i shall cling on to my 'maybe's.

for now, it's time to pack up and board the next train to wherever i might be going.

but i will at least say this, even if not to you, for this writing is more for myself than anything else [yes, selfish selfish, 'me me me', and i can provide no excuse for that] -

thank you.

+ posted by M @ 8:42 PM