Still Not Over You

I want out.

I thought I was already done with you.

I thought I have already moved on.

But if yes, then tell me what was that wave of feelings that rushed in me awhile ago?

When I saw your name
When I saw you call her
When she replied with love
And you reciprocated further

Tell me, please tell me because I cannot breathe. I have watched multiple comedy shows and distracted myself enough. I have tried crushing on boys whom I found attractive and nice.

Still, whenever I see you, I feel tears on my eyes.

Will this feeling never really go away? Am I just hiding it? Are they just… buried? And that, what, they’re still actually there?

Please no. Please leave me. Please, oh please, have mercy on me.

My heart breaks every time, just every time, I see you, feel you, hear your name, or just simply hear you.

My emotions drag me deep, down under, pulling me back to the past that I have escaped from.

This is not healthy, I know. But I tried my best.

I know I did.

I have spent countless hours on psychology books trying to scientifically maneauver my way out of this. Drowning myself on rational thoughts, I believed in the possibility that I am now officially over you.

Maybe I never was.

Maybe I never will.

But I’m praying I’ll get to see the day when I’ll wonder why I ever thought I won’t.

There is a reason for everything, they say. But we seem to just go in circles. Or maybe that’s exactly his purpose –to go around and back when I seem to have forgotten my lesson.

Getting Over, Getting Lost

Being free from crushes isn’t what I thought it would be.

I thought I won’t get over you.

I thought fate was cruel that I have to keep on seeing you again and again– always at the same time of the year.

Then he came.

One day, I realized someone else was occupying my mind and I wasn’t interested with how you were doing anymore.

But another problem came. He wasn’t the type of guy I wanted to like.

He was dangerous, so to speak, the type of guy who plays in the field.

And so this became another situation where I wanted out.

Yesterday, when I saw him again, I realized I don’t care about him anymore. And then I realized I don’t care about the two of you anymore.

It was freedom! I knew it was.

So tell me, why do I feel so lost?

But what if… I just like the idea of having someone?

The Deceiver

Two can play the deceiver’s game.

I love you
Not
But you
Forgot
I play
With words
More often
Than not
And so
You ask
What should
I trust?
How will
One know
Just who
You want
When every
Move
Is calculated
Your body
Lies
And your words
Perfected?

The best and the worst enemy one could ever have is someone who’s aware.

 

Something About Me

This is a random thing about my attitude in blogging… and a little about me.

I like blogs. What I hate is my attitude on them.

At first, I’d write to express myself. But once I start to get views and likes, I’d suddenly crave them, and then the following write-ups would be made just to impress.

And it annoys me. I started this blog to express my thoughts, not to please the people who will read my words, but the more the likes feed my ego, the more my words become controlled.

I suddenly feel they’re not me.

This write-up is another attempt to make my words real. This should be enough to talk sense into me, to bring me back to where I was before my ego craved attention.

So hello once again, I am Tori. This is not my real name but the words I use very much represent me.

Ironically, staying hidden is the only key for me to stay true to myself.

Can words represent someone accurately if they are loved to be played with?

The Girl Who Cannot Feel

When you let your mind work more than your heart, does that mean you cannot feel? What if your mind is the one doing all the feeling?

I don’t think I’ve ever known what love really is. The closest I come to having is wanting to please the person I’ve admired for years. But even then, I knew something was different.

Whenever I see him before, I choose to stay where he is. I’d choose to talk to him and spend time with him instead of going home early. Whenever he was waiting for someone important, I’d tell him I’d wait with him just because I want to. I knew something was wrong when even after being with him, I feel nothing. He made jokes beside me and my mind was blank. Was I supposed to laugh? I asked myself. He was very corny. He told me stories and I shared some of mine too. Still, I feel this gap in my chest. Like something is missing.

When I learned all I can about him, I find myself growing bored. So what? I asked. What then will I do? Do I want to be with him? Sure.

But I keep on looking for reasons as to why I want to.

I’m not really sure. But anything that doesn’t make sense agitates me. It makes me uncomfortable and impatient. Sadly, emotions are irrational, probably why they don’t sit well with me.

I don’t know if this is what you call someone who has a commitment-phobia or philophobia. I mean, I want to feel something. I’m not exactly afraid of it. In fact, I crave it. I want to take care of someone and be taken care of. I want to love and be loved. The problem is I can’t feel it.

I can’t even explain it.

I can’t feel normally. It’s like whenever an emotion arises from within me, I know, for example, that what I’m feeling is sadness but then there’s this part of me that’s detached, not really feeling, just watching the sadness cover my mind.

And I go, “oh okay. I think I’m sad.”

Of course, I cry. But only if I will it. Only if I let the pain affect me. Other than that, my mind questions my emotions. It doesn’t make sense, you see, to cry over someone who ignored you, for example. I mean, what caused the pain? Why was I hurt?

And oh, there I go again and again questioning myself.

Until I can no longer feel anything.

Control your mind before it controls you, they say. But what if the more you control it, the more you actually condition it, thereby, controlling you more in the future.

“Meant to be” or aren’t we?

We were meant to cross paths but fate has other plans.

When I entered the room, I felt an electric spark in the air. I don’t know where it came from. There were a lot of people that day and I didn’t see you… yet.
I listened to the speaker in front, completely unaware of my surroundings. But I can feel it. I can feel the underlying current, small but distinguishable.

I went home without any answers. That may just be my adrenaline talking after all, but months after, in that same room, I suddenly saw you.

It was when you entered the room and smiled that captured me. You were so familiar to me… yet so new. It was the first time I laid eyes on you but I knew something was different that time.

We got to know each other and talked. Slowly, but surely, I was breaking your walls until time came when we got to hang out together outside the room where we met.

I learned your number, you told me where you live, your sickness, and more. You learned about the petty details of my life, my number, and you even asked where I lived.

I thought there was something, alas. This was what I have been feeling, I said. The first time I saw you in the room, I knew we were meant to be.

But months came and went. You and I grew distant from each other. You went your way and I walked towards mine. We were studying different things, you see and I thought, hey, maybe we’re just both prioritizing our studies instead of these feelings.

And then for six months I didn’t see you. I gave up. Maybe I saw wrong. Maybe I was delusional.

During the seventh month, I was walking down the hallway when you suddenly turned around the corner and walked towards me.

My eyes widened.

“Hello,” I said. We looked at each other and laughed. But you were going somewhere important and I as well. Once again, we went our separate ways.

But always. Always, we’d meet. In that place… at a certain time, everyday we’d see each other and smile.

I was okay. I was content. I didn’t need a relationship. I was happy just to see you there, to see that our paths keep on crossing and that maybe it meant one day, when the time is right, we’ll be together.

I was patient.

For six months, again, I didn’t see you. But I was fine. I knew I’d see you again someday.

Well, that someday wasn’t that far. On the seventh month I saw you again. I was walking down the street when you suddenly turned on the corner.

Our paths crossed… again. We greeted each other… again. We were given time to talk to each other yet again.

I thought, this was turning out to be a cycle.

But this time, it was different. You were distant and your smile was strange to me.

Why were you no longer familiar? And then I saw you with her.

That’s when I understood.

But still I smiled. Still, we talked. But inside I was crying. What are the odds that for three consecutive years we’d meet this way?

What if this continued? What if it turns out to be a cycle? What if we were meant to meet over and over again?

But we weren’t meant to be together?

I told you I liked you. Therefore, I cannot say I wasted my chance. I did my best thrice. I guess you really just weren’t meant to be mine.

They

The things I loved about him turned out to be the things that’ll make me hate him.

I hated his eyes
The moment he
Looked at her

Hated his mouth
The moment he
Spoke of her

But more than that,
I hated love
The moment he
Asked her

Will you be mine?
And yes
Was her answer

But then again, hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is.