Confession: They Say “If You Love It, You Should Let It Go”

October 19.

Dear self,
If you’re still trapped by the romanticized idea that a man has to woo a woman first, then, by all means, keep mute about your feelings, pride yourself in giving no hints and wallow as the painful torture of your silence takes you on an emotional rollercoaster down mood swing alley. From cheery to suddenly unpleasant, after all, everyone loves a meanie.

October 30.

“You like this boy?” She asks.

“We’re just friends… I miss my friend and I want to talk to him”.

“So, call him”, she adds.

“Mmnnn, I’ll think about it’.

December 15.

This year didn’t start easy, as a matter of fact, it’s been my toughest year yet, but it has left me with a lot which I’m eternally grateful for: great relationships with my friends, family time, growth, a new FRIEND, growth, God’s reminder of support and most importantly hope. Let’s just say I’m in a happy place right now.

December 30.

I’m feeling feelings, thinking thoughts, remembering memories. My heart is racing, not in a bad way, but not necessarily in a good way either. The pattern of this heartbeat is different, the type you get when you long for something, but not so severe that it leads you on a desperate wild goose chase. This one is more content, accepting, understanding.

The truth is, my heart is racing because it longs for what it can’t have. What it shouldn’t want. I want this… but I don’t want this. I want the chicken… without the barbecue sauce. The barbecue sauce messes up the actual flavor of the chicken and leaves an annoying taste in my mouth.

I know I have only two choices; either accept the barbecue sauce with the chicken or just forget about the chicken completely, but, it’s a tough decision to make. I know I want the chicken.

I want the chicken! I want the chicken……..I want you.  But you can’t have the chicken my head chuckles, so let it go.

January 8.

The chicken want’s me, which is AH-may-zing, but, I have to be careful, I can’t afford to make any mistakes, I have to cross my I’s and dot my T’s; slow and steady should win the race. Right?

February 1.

They say you’re my muse, that you are the emotional trigger that sparks all my creativity. I laugh and turn the other way as they speak. My friends, they pride themselves in thinking that they can read me, that they can predict the reason behind all my actions and emotions. They are wrong.

I don’t have a muse, just a person who is tremendously supportive of my creativity, who believes I can conquer the world with my writing and challenges me to do so, who lends a listening ear when the words don’t flow and  inspires me to tell more stories…..oh wait, that’s the definition of a muse right?

February 5.

There’s something about the stillness of my heart, save for the periodical flutter every now and then, it’s no longer has any fears or doubts. This new-found confidence tells me I’m finally ready, so come tomorrow I’m going to tell you… everything.

February 7.

Bad timing, maybe try again later.

February 20.

To confess or not to confess? Perhaps to wait, the third try could be quite the charm

February 25.

I closed my eyes tonight and my dreams took me far away. I saw a made up future. In my dreams, there was beautiful house in the suburbs, two cars and a pretty baby girl. You loved her with all your heart, you  would leave work early just to be with her, throw her repeatedly in the air, ignore my screams for safety and plant a kiss on my forehead when I grew frantic.

March 6.

If I talk she’d say I’m paranoid, she seems to believe I have this skill of building mountains out of mole hills, painting pictures that don’t exist. But it’s not that, I’m just a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. Those hour-long calls that now last 3 hurried minutes, silly texts that now get no response, surprise visits that happen less frequently, this one long week of silence; it’s scary, it scares me. What happened to then, what’s happening now?

March 8.

He loves me, he loves me not?

March 20.

And if there’s one thing I regret, it’s not saying yes to you while I had the chance.

March 21.

He loves me!

March 25.

I love him…?

April 1.

I didn’t cry on Wednesday. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. When you get hurt so much, your heart becomes immune to pain, nothing hurts anymore, the pain just trickles off like dried leaves on a windy night. I didn’t cry on Thursday either. I couldn’t bring myself to evaluate the possible rashness of my decision or ask myself “what if I was wrong, what if I waited too long”. I couldn’t think, I was lost in this state of unfeeling and even that was a burden of its own.

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The tears came on Friday, 9 pm to be precise, as I sat on the bed trying to figure out exactly what to do with my life, how to get the answers to the nerve-wracking statistics project that I had been battling since Wednesday, how to complete a six page analysis paper in time to go to bed and wake early for my writing workshop the next day, how to get my paper and presentation in order in the midst of the surmounting work, how to find the perfect end for a carefully crafted April fool’s prank which seemed to be taking a wrong turn, how to fix what seemed broken, how to put up my weekly blog post in the midst of all the chaos. My catastrophic life it seemed, possessed a kind of heat that began to melt the steely exterior of my impenetrable heart, so on Friday, 9pm to be precise, the tears finally came. Oh how they rushed, smearing the make up I had taken 2 hours to apply, tearing down walls intentionally built to protect me, and leaving in its wake, a sea of vulnerability.

April 2 – 11am.

I made it to the workshop. In this gathering, there are many notable writers. I read my words to them and they all nod in admiration, their eyes widen in wonder. This is fulfilling, satisfying, yet, I can’t wait to leave. There’s something I need to do, some words I need to take back , a misunderstanding I need to rectify.

April 2 – 3pm.

I held the egg really tight to prevent it from breaking. Surprise! It broke. This topaz ring will be a reminder that it’s gonna be a while before I let my self go again. All I want now is a shabby-chic white room with white lace curtains and a window overlooking the sea where I can write for all of eternity.

April 8.

He loves me still!
All I really want now is a shabby-chic white room with white lace curtains and a window overlooking the sea where I can write for all of eternity, with you as my muse, by my side.

April 9.

I lost some money today, 20 dollars. No one took me seriously because it was just 20 dollars. But it hurt me really bad, because, I had made plans that I now had to cancel, because, I was haunted by the fact that I didn’t have it any more, because exactly a week ago, I had lost another thing dear to me. It hurt just as bad as it did when I lost you.

April 10.

They say if you love it, you should let it go. It’s age old wisdom that has been passed down from generation to generation.  It’s never clear who “they” are. These people who think themselves wise enough to dictate how people should love, how I should love. Their identities remain unknown but their words somehow still has a hold on the world.

• They say “it’s better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all
• They say “all is fair in love and war”
• They say “ experience is the best teacher”
• They say “if you love it set it free”

I never understood the logic behind setting love free. How that was even the least bit sensible. In my teeny tiny head, loving equaled longing, wanting, it was generous yet, selfish. It didn’t throw away, it sought and preserved, then cared, and retained. Why set something free when you could cage it, hold it, have it for yourself? How do you, then, live with the reminder of what was or the torturous wonder of what could have been?

Well, what did my teeny brain know? I was nothing compared to the aging wisdom of these unknown caretakers of the society. These one’s, I had to listen to because they were obviously wiser. Yet, they had no way of telling me:

• How to tame the flutter of my heart or the worry it sometimes brings.
• How to erase the images of you in my head or the smiles that sometimes creep in.
• How to forget the linger in his eyes that makes me think he might feel the exact same way

“You just don’t care”

But how does one not care about caring especially when every inch of you just wants to scream “Can’t we just forget misunderstandings and start all over?”

Why do we have to lives our lives with all our feelings trapped in a bubble?

They say, “If you love it you should let it go”. Someone needs to tell them that if it’s so easy to let go, then maybe it was never really love.

April 12 .

Dear you, if you’re reading this and you made it to the end, then, now you know. Figuring out whether and how to stay friends was the biggest problem, little wonder why that was repeatedly an epic fail. Precious time spent on assumptions and overthinking could simply have been pure romantic bliss…can still simply be pure bliss.
Why beat around the bush, makes horrible assumptions and reading senseless meanings into each other’s actions when we can just dance in the sun… together. I know this sounds very cliche but this time, the ball is in your court. I’ll wait for you, on the bench, where our thighs touched for the first time. Except you agree with what “they” say, that “If you love it, you should let it go”.