With The Heart To Forget You, Take II.


This morning I awoke from the dream that I’d – actually? finally? – gotten together with The Guy (Friend). So vivid was the dream that I woke up feeling not disoriented but shocked, literally, because I was completely taken aback by this development that I well, never even knew took place. It took me a second too long to steady myself(heart) from the painfully crisp and clear images of our cute hugs and goofy smiles, good luck in forgetting that some silly and totally random necklace was even gifted to dream-bot N.

Someone please just kill me. Now.

…cos here I thought I’d totally gotten over whatever that was, that being what transpired (…and fizzled) between us over summer break.


So truth: I’m having too much fun with Twitter.

To be honest I know I’m totally just ranting and babbling about nothing there, but it’s so bite-sized effortless. It’s (still) fun.


Truth, real truth: I was ‘recommended’ to his Twitter account.

…and I was uh, immediately turned off. I’m aware that in general, people project themselves differently online and offline. I’m also well aware that it is none of my business how people conduct themselves on their social media – hell if someone polices the way I act on my spaces, all hell will break loose – but when the personas seem so strikingly different, I am not sure what to do. Beyond that, what do I make of this feeling like I’ve just been thrown off-course? Do I… do I really know you?


Truth, real real truth: I stopped texting him weeks ago.

I hated how I was trying too hard, so hard, that everything about me that’s got to do with him and this whole mess of jumbled emotions was so unnatural. I hated how I acted and how I knew it was a bad move, that my mind was sound and the warning bells were loud and clear, yet I’d still try too hard anyway. I hated that.

I hated his silences that appeared in the spaces under my too-lengthy text messages.

I hated myself for hating myself.

Don’t plant roses in places you know they’re not going to grow; move on from this, not for him and anyone else. Do it for yourself.


The last thing I want to do is to talk (write) about this here. The last thing. 

But maybe-

The real real real truth: In my heart it is still sigh, unfinished business.

Which comes down to the simple truth that maybe I still need to write about it, because that’s how I come around and deal with all things in my life and heart that I consider complicated. It is just how I’m wired. Maybe I need to write about it in order to come full circle and grow. Maybe this, maybe that.

Someday I’ll look back and laugh heartily at the memories.


That someday though, it’s not today or tomorrow. It wasn’t yesterday either.

It’s okay to not be okay.


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