A letter to Mr. Heartache

14 Jan

As I stare at my journal, I suddenly felt the urge to write you and finally disclose and free myself from unexplainable feelings for the past number of months that I have been suffering from.

For a year now, I am supposed to celebrate my first anniversary with him two days ago. I remember building dreams, wonderful, exciting dreams, about the coming of that supposed anniversary. I visualized a romantic get-away together, either to the mountains or to the beach. It could be both.

When we’re on our anniversary date, we’ll have a picnic—spread a cloth on the grasses, lie down and just cling to each other’s arms while butterflies fly back and forth around the flowers that surround us. Then we’ll hold hands as we build dreams together. Then at night, we tread along the shores of the beach, as we stride along, our fingers interlocked, we would feel the gentle caress of white sand on our bare feet.

As the sky unveils the dazzling billion stars, we would lie down and consume ourselves with the wonderful display of the mysterious sky. The stars would be shining through as if to say they are in one with us in our celebration. Then we’d fall asleep into each other’s arms, clinging all the tighter, as if never wanting to stray from each other anymore.

This, however, remained a dream, a mere dream.

For three months of being with him, I felt like a princess who finally found her prince charming. He held my hand and asked for me to join the journey with him to the wonders of love. Who was I to refuse anyway? I was more than happy to oblige.

In the course of our relationship, I can’t remember a single day that I regretted accepting him in my heart. Every day I spent with him was like magic, something unexpected after the fury I’ve been through from my past relationship. All the trips and crazy things we did brought nothing but laughter, our laughter that always echoed in my mind before I went to sleep and just as I woke up in the morning.

I was feeling too much overwhelmed with all the sweetness that he poured me and my heart just got too ecstatic to take it all. This was because I still can’t believe that I am finally feeling the “sweetness” of the other in a relationship. The feeling was alien. And it felt good. Really good.

I tried not to fall so deeply in love with him because I knew I can’t handle yet another heart break after the ordeals I’ve been through. But as if all the elements in the universe connived, I was powerless.

My life, my everything, revolved around him. As if nothing else mattered but him alone. He became my first thought in the morning and my last at night fall. I missed him every single minute that went by even if we just departed. I longed to be hugged and kissed by him just as I wanted to keep him in sight. When he was away, my heart kept breaking.

I was imprisoned, locked in the vintage of his love. I then felt obliged to give everything to him. I did. It didn’t matter even if it seemed nothing was left to me because he became my everything.

But the connection passed as quickly as it came.

The love that I thought was there turned out to be just a lie. I thought he was my prince charming who will forever be at my side whenever things go astray. I thought he was the man who will not lie to me. But I was wrong and I was terribly wronged.

I felt the pang of pain and ate me continually. The twinge of hurt crept over me, killing me softly as if not wanting me to miss any detail of the pain. The pain felt like a million straight stabs in my heart. It was painful. It was . . . deadly.

I saw the red flags comin’ though. No matter how much my friends and that little voice inside me intervened to flag me down, I just ignored them. Totally. This, I realized, was because I was blinded by the love I thought was there to stay.

I did not understand why it all got messed up at first. My mind was clouded with questions and questions with answers that I was so scared to face. But as I tailor things up, it came to my senses that he always knew what he wants and when he wants it, he always know how to get it. I fell into his trap. Helpless me. I was like a bug circling around the light very much aware that I’d be caught but still persisted then boom! I was crushed into minute, ugly remnants.

Despite all the hurts, I pursued for a second chance then third, fourth, fifth. Hell, it was like forever giving rounds of second chances! It never worked out still.

While I was giving another venue for chances to keep standing tall for our relationship, the more I felt belittled. I forgot I should not be begging for love because love should come in the most natural way. Love isn’t for begging, it comes because everyone deserves one. While I was busy doing unnecessary things to bring things back together between us, I forgot all the people around me. They who never turned their back on me despite my stupidities. They who are always ready to give their love. They who loves me the most. They are my friends and my family. And I was unaware that I also deserted the most important person—MYSELF.

As I realize there were too many people whom I have hurt and forgotten because I was busy “getting back things together”, I felt the wound got deeper. It felt like rubbing salt on a very fresh wound.

It took me a long, hard time before finally figuring out that things aren’t the same anymore and that it will never be again, that I needed to stop trying.

I have to admit that it took me a lot of courage, a numerous hard hits on the head, and an ocean of tears before I was able to gather myself all back together again. It wasn’t as if I could flip a switch and suddenly change the way I felt. But things have to keep going.

I gave him everything and it felt like nothing was left for me to begin with. I’m glad that my brains never left me at all, though. And of course my family and friends.

It’s pretty unnerving to apprehend that we forget the people who are more important to us when we are blinded by what we thought is a real love but eventually will just turn our very nightmare.

Though my wounded heart is not yet perfectly mended, at least the wounds are getting healed. It’s leaving scars, scars that would always remind me of my painful past but at least it will always remain just a scar.

Our love story did not end like a “happily ever after” like I always wished to be, but I am pretty optimistic that somewhere out there, my prince is just waiting for me. In the right time and at the right place, that is.

And though it ended up all differently, I felt like I was still the one left behind, that I was the one who struggled with real feelings of loss in the aftermath. But I say, what’s the use of replaying the hard times anyway? I loved too much but it doesn’t, and will never, mean that I lost everything.

After all, before a princess finds her prince she has to kiss a lot of frogs, right?

Happy endings only happen to fairy tales, they say. But for me, I still believe in happy endings no matter what and that my prince charming will come along and we’ll live happily ever after.

Ordeals come our way to to give us a lesson, for us to become stronger and more discerning for the next time around. We get strangled so that we’ll know we need help. We get trapped so that we’ll know we have to be freed. And we get hurt for us to know we should learn to love our self foremost.

This time, I won’t bargain myself or heart short anymore.

And this time, I will learn to fall in love with. . .myself.

So to you Mr. Heartache, the show is over. It’s time to finally close the curtains. You made a great show and I was hooked. You were able to make me cry and believed in your show. With that, I give you a big applause. Thank you for everything. Thank you for the happiness you once brought me. Thank you for the pains for you made me realize that you are not the right prince for me, that I deserve someone else better other than a jerk like you.

Thank you for the great show. I learned a lot, seriously.

Mr. Heartache, it’s time to bid farewell.

Goodbye. . .


2 Responses to “A letter to Mr. Heartache”


  1. Love has a habit of coming back « sipping coffee. . . - November 8, 2011

    […] the first two months I was away from Mr. Heartache, I still tried to fix what seems to be going on between us. And with that two effing months, I […]

  2. I could be right, too « sipping coffee. . . - January 11, 2012

    […] was right about M, whom I intended to call in this blog as “Mr. Charmer” and “Mr. Heartache”. She was damn right when she said that M will never be the man for me. That while M is the […]

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