I wish I could tell you that the reason I have been alone all these years is that I would rather focus on things way more important than that crappy lovey-dovey stuff. Or that I am independent and is comfortable being alone. Or that I plan on living a life of celibacy because it has been my childhood dream to become a nun and that I would enter a convent by the end of the year. You see, I used to make up excuses like these, face the mirror, and then chant like those dimwits shouting their lungs out for their favorite [and losing] sports team, as if it would magically turn things around.
For the last five years, eight months, and three days, it did actually work. Every day I would get up, fix myself, recite my little mantra for the day, and happily face the day, successfully convincing everyone else, some days even myself, that I’m perfectly happy with how things turned out for me. And in truth, I was actually kind of happy. I lived a normal, career-wise successful life. But today, I don’t know what is so special with this day, I just couldn’t do it.
This morning, I woke up feeling so heavy it’s as if I learned my father was Darth Vader. Well, that’s not entirely sad, Anakin Skywalker IS awesome, but you get my point. So I tried my daily pep talk in the mirror but for some damn reason, the universe made a tear fall from my eyes. And everything just plummeted down from there and next thing I knew, I was hugging my knees crying in the corner of my room.
See, don’t let clichés fool you. Sure most of them are true, comforting, and universal–hence, they get overused and eventually lose its impact or meaning overtime–but some are basically just lies so that you’d stop pitying yourself. And that one that goes something like, “It’s okay, cry it all out. It will make you feel lighter.” Eenk! FALSE. Because after that embarrassing moment of Niagara falls, I was anything but better! Heck, if anything, I felt even worse.
For the first time in a long time, I felt weak. Weak, vulnerable, empty…