What if there are still some things that preoccupy you no matter how much time passes? What if there is still a part of you that has never recovered from the war you waged ages ago? What if that part never recovers, ever?
The first time I got heartache, I never thought I’ll be able to smile again. I had always kept hope inside of me — though I never admitted it to anyone — that somehow and somewhere down the road, something will be on again between us. I never stopped hoping before. I once fooled myself into thinking that my heart had changed its course, but it knows better. It was still coming back to him no matter what.
And then I reached that point wherein I knew for sure I didn’t want something back between us. I didn’t want him back the way he used to be in my life but I didn’t want him to disappear completely either. I don’t know why. It’s plain wrong, but that was just the way I feel. And I hid every little feeling with utter excellence.
Three years is enough of a time period to get over something or someone. There had been mistakes made, things done that I will never be proud of, and pretensions that I realized didn’t change anything. I thought releasing those actions are enough.
Except they are not. Long after the fall, I was still imprisoned by the monstrosity of what happened, the “what-should-be”s, the “what-could-have-been”s and the fact that his present is happier than what we had. Of those, only the “what-could-have-been”s were dealt with effectively. I realized that even if the reason why it fell apart didn’t occur, chances are, other reasons will emerge that would eventually break it still. I recognized it early — we’re not meant to be together. Even if we didn’t make the mistakes we made that caused the separation, there will still be something that would eventually lead to it. Everything is just not meant to be between the two of us.
But that doesn’t mean pain will not come down on me. Pain was what kept me breathing back then. The wet pillows, sleepless nights, bitterness and denied anger—that was my salvation when he wasted his time looking for the things that he wanted with other women. And when he found that one thing, boy did that pain and bitterness totally overpower me. The thought of them sharing kisses, hugs, sweetness, and memories. The thought of her taking my place in his life, family, and friends — total misery.
Eventually, I managed to stay happy in pain. To be happy for myself and for other things. But never was I happy for him. Never. I always prayed for their fall, always wished for regret to come chase him until he chokes. All those I’m-happy-for-you and I-wish-you-well were total BS. I secretly never really believed you can be happy for someone if his happiness doesn’t involve you. I had always thought no such thing exists. I wanted him miserable. I wanted him to think of me while he’s with her. I wanted him to lament when he sees me filled with rebelled beauty and transformation, which he caused. I wanted him to look for something I have that he will never find with her. I wanted him to ache at the thought of me being with another man. I wanted him in the place where he put me — in total secret pain. And then I realized, that was not the kind of love I wanted to give.
Looking back, I still find it hard to live with myself whenever I think of the things I did bad just to satisfy those emotions. I still hate myself for wanting back then to do those mistakes again. I still hate the fact that I allowed myself to turn into someone I really hate just because of my pained love for him. Maybe that was the reason why it didn’t work and why it will never work out between us. Because my love for him was dark and twisted. Never in good judgment. Never with pure intentions. Selfish and delinquent.
Until I met someone who would change what I feel and believe.
I actually made it. I was able to find pure happiness and for the first time, I somehow forgot about my dark twisted side that he caused. Although I’m still stumbling upon this — all I know is that this new person changed me into someone I want and admire. He brought me back from the slums of darkness and bitterness. He accepted me wholeheartedly.
As for me, I definitely don’t want something back between us. I got over and I know pain will never emerge again. But I don’t think all of me will ever recuperate. Even if the largest part of me is totally happy and not in the dark place anymore, a part of me still hasn’t moved on. That part still finds it hard to pull through. Most of me don’t care anymore about him. Plain nothing. There is no wishing misery for him any longer, but there is no wishing for his happiness either. It’s just blank nothing.
I have long accepted that he is now with someone else. That he is now happy without me. But knowing otherwise makes that small part of me beam with a sense of pressure once again. I know for sure—that part of me will never recover. Because he took that part with him when he left. He has it and he will always have it. No other person, not even my new someone, can ever take that part of me away from him. Just like I believe, there is a part of him that I will always have.
Because even if that small part of you will always live in the past, your life holds a bigger part of your mind and your heart in here and now. That bigger part lives in the present. Who knows? Maybe that someone will finally be that thing you’ll never have to lose or say adieu to. Maybe that larger part will be something your small part could never be. Focus on that large part because that will determine your present happiness and the future you want. That which you can never get from that small part that he took. That which the past can never, ever provide.