isablahblah

May 13, 2008

Now I know what jealousy feels like.  It’s my fucking anger, eating my head and feeding it with thoughts of revenge. It makes my hands cold like hell, and it keeps testing me. At first, you’d feel like tears are coming up, but in an instant you resent yourself for being so vulnerable. And so you remove jealousy from your system. You start to think of options so it would go away, like either to attack violently or to remain passive. I chose to remain passive, and immediately I resolved what problem there might be that triggered this feeling. Of course I don’t just let it by, I also find ways to drive jealousy away and make damn sure that it won’t come back. There were many more options—from the gravest to the lightest, from the most possible to the impossible, from clutching onto moral fiber or hanging on to anarchy bullshit. But I chose one that would be smart and practical, smooth but hits you there right away. Did it go away, really? No, I don’t think so. But it would soon be gone. And before I know it, I might have befriended it already without permission from my conscious state, and I might be taking care of it until the next pang arrives.

Gahd my hands are still cold. Right now I’m still getting a hold of myself. I somehow feel happy because I could actually feel jealousy, but it still hurts like hell. It’s like getting shot with a syringe. Or maybe it’s like doing something that you thought would be of good use but isn’t, after all. It’s like getting kicked in the balls. Except, of course, I wouldn’t know the feeling really because I haven’t experienced such. So now I fucking know what he does when he gets hurt, he calls on other people to make the pain go away, which is also another way to hurt me and to get back at me. So maybe you want three cheers for sweet revenge, eh?

I may have chosen to be the most passive I can be, and like a morally aware person, I did what I thought was “right,” (I suppose) but let me just burst out my repressed anger and say that when this pent-up anger goes back and I find you calling on all (sorry, I don’t really mean this, it’s just the anger talking) of planet earth’s whores just to make this stupid pain worse than alleviating it, then mind you I’m not the kind of person who’s a wuss enough to just get done with it and break up with you, I swear to your so-called god that I will not break it up, but instead I will rip your fucking heart out and make your life in par with my fucking misery. That’s if you ever make this feeling worse than it already is.

I hate confrontations. It’s one way to make drama out of a stupid situation. But maybe it would just fuck up. I’ll let it slide, but I’ll make him realize. But wait. What’s there to realize? He couldn’t even understand a joke I said to him! I’m not saying he’s dumb, and I’m not saying I’m smart either. But why the hell is he SO. FUCKING. SELF-CENTERED. ENOUGH. TO THINK OF. NOTHING. AT ALL!!??! Putangina. I get that your uber happy life wakes you up in the morning and serves you with grace and gratitude and whatever the hell it is you wake up to, but is there any space in your magical rainbow life that might include me—this weirdo who brings rain together with the bow—without having to make me deal with all your other happy rainbow friends?

And you know why it does hurt? Because this idea in my head that tells me that I’m just a hobby you attend to when you’re bored and incomplete keeps swinging back and forth. So yea we’d had fun times and all, but when it’s over, it is over. It’s like this relationship is a happy pill that makes you high and alive when you take it, but once it’s over, we go back to our scrawny lives and just live like we live for nothing. We do come back to take it, but only when we realize that “hey, I’m sad. I need this happy pill so I’d feel happy.” Gahd this is not what I want. And of course, I have always been indecisive to make you lead the way into how it works, but I’m starting to hate it. You suck as a boyfriend. I’m company—let me in in your life. Don’t mess with my head and implant it with your I-love-you’s and don’t-leave-me’s, stick around and let me know you’re still there. I’m the one who loves you. You’re the one who keeps leaving.

This is exactly the reason why I hate commitment. Putangina, so I am committed after all? Hey, I’m serious. I…think…I made…a mistake. From all the other guys with whom I’ve spotted to be really a pain in the ass, this one, I believe, I’ve let it get to my head. IDIOT! Was I desperate at that time when I thought I did indeed love him? Tangina Issa, you are SUCH A LOSER!

This is where the real relationship starts.

So to jealousy, I say, FUCK OFF! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

-isablahblah-