Free as a Flightless Bird

I like the title. It's so cool I want to say don't read this entry, which is mostly just a pile of shit, and just stare at the title.

Don't say you weren't warned.

I dropped the bomb. And this is more literal than figurative. I say this because when someone breaks your heart, it's reminiscent of the American bombing in Hiroshima. It's like something just exploded inside you. The only difference is that the damage is cunning, because the explosion is silent and everybody thinks you're what you say you are. "Fine."

Having said that, a broken heart seems like a good way to die. That is until YOU actually break a heart.

Everybody thinks breaking someone's heart is like scraping some leftovers for your dog to eat. Like hell it is. You want to know what's worse than suffering? Guilt.

Guilt is a parasite. It crawls inside your head and gnaws at your brain. It feeds on the horror that you have been the source of another person's unhappiness. You are the bad guy. Or girl, in my case. The one everybody loves to hate because you've ruined someone's life, regardless of how fast he bounces back. At every bite, guilt grows rapidly into a fat two-fanged monster and it makes you feel heavy inside. Nobody understands that. They don't know how a half-hearted laugh sounds like. Because the worst thing about guilt is the thought that because of what you did, you don't deserve to be happy.

I told my friends that if I could turn it all upside down, I'd do it. I'd rather be the one who gets hurt, because then I'd have every right to move on, be happy and show that motherfucker what he had just lost. But no, I was that motherfucker. So how do you move on from that?

That afternoon, when I broke up with my boyfriend, I could not even cry. I was just...calm. And I hated it. I was worse that Iron Man, because at least there was a person inside that suit. In my case, there was a machine inside this body. Heartless. I didn't cry. I felt sad. And that was worse. I realized that sadness is a war that the soul wages, the way pain is a battle that the body must overcome. I didn't shed any tear at all. But my soul...It was shattered.

It was my choice. If I could play it back I still would've done the same thing. I am now free as a bird. This is what I wanted. Single again after what seems to be ages. I finally got to breathe some fresh air.

I Need Space

I have this fascination with city lights.

Perhaps solitary beings are naturally drawn to serene backdrops that make the world look much gentler than it actually is. This might also be the reason my mind works better at night. Darkness tends to be too overwhelming for some people. Or too intimidating. But there's a distinct sense of quiet that clings to it, like damp air on a humid night, more soothing than it is daunting.

 I love the sun, but I hate daylight. It exposes the filth in the surroundings. It reminds me of how my dentist uses her gloved hands to open my mouth wide in the most unflattering way while her two interns take turns to scrutinize. I am not ashamed of my tartar. It's just that reality, once magnified, is just too harsh.

In the movie Just Like Heaven, Reese Witherspoon's character lives in this apartment with huge glass-stained windows that give one a breath-taking view of city lights. I never forgot that movie, and it's not because of the romance. It's because I swore to myself that someday I'm going to find an identical apartment and live there, all by myself. That's one of my ultimate dreams.

For now I'm stuck in my room which I consider as temporary paradise. But I know and feel that someday, I'll find my real place, the one that's exactly in my head.