Old journal entry: on moving on

     Cynicism once taught me that relationships can only give you anything but good stuff. Exhausted tear ducts that cause emotional baggage evident in bulging eye maletas. Prescription drugs (abused or misused) to lessen anxiety attacks. Beer belly. Petitions to close down radio stations that play all those not-so-mainstream songs you once dedicated to ‘the one who could’ve been’. A box of junk – his CDs, his shirts, movie and concert tickets when he once rocked your world. A bunch of bittersweet memories that leave you sleepless during the witching hours.

     Having tried a few relationships which didn’t fare as expected, I once believed that enough is enough. Compulsory nights out with girl friends (where you shun the male species out of your world, or at least try to get new ones in your world) and waste-away time through dancing-slash-alcohol went on for a few weeks until it got tiring. I hit rock-bottom when I realised how miserable I was. Despite knowing and feeling that I was okay, there was something in me that felt.. empty. It’s not the idea of being alone, e. It was just really hard to control emotions, to hold back and turn ice-cold towards every new opportunity that comes along. Bitching was therapeutic but equally painful. Especially when I had solitary contemplative moments that almost threw me off to the border of insanity.

     Screw cynicism, then.

     I do not believe in your ‘passed/failed relationship’ theory anymore. You won’t get an 1 or a 5 in the end, anyway. No INCs too, because surely, I’ve learned that the presence of something can’t always make up for the absence of another. Relationships do not have removals either because you can’t take back what was already taken away, nor what was never there in the first place.

     The beauty of trying in love is that you get to learn a new thing every new time. You get to be the scientist working on the equation or formula of happy-ever-after. The key variable may be hard to define, but you’ll be aware of it once it reaches you. Trust me, honey. There’s no harm in trying again. Because when you do, it’ll all be worth the wait.

     Give yourself a chance. You deserve it (and who knows, he might just deserve you).

     No harm in trying, dear. You’ve once said it, yourself – it’s all just a game, an experiment. You be Player 1, you be the scientist. Game over, try again.

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