Whisk me away to a secret world...

Thursday, September 27, 2007


11.49pm 27 September 2007 Thursday

There can only be one love of your life. Once you give out 100% of your heart, no matter how hard you try the next time, you can only give 99%, because the remaining 1% is no longer yours to give away.

Life just loves to play these little tricks on you, to drop a bombshell when you least expect it. I can dissect you into tiny pieces with friends, and my rational mind can decide all it wants to decide to think, but somehow there's no controlling the wild stallion of my heart. Isn't it just simply annoying that no matter how disciplined you are, or how good you are at shutting out emotions, that you cannot control how you feel?

What a bummer.

I know this is it, that it is the end of us. There can be no more hope that something will change, not that I can will my mind to stop drifting in that direction, but at least there will never be any action following those thoughts anymore.

Of course I had been fed a fair diet of the usual advice - if he really wants you, there'd be no stopping him; some guys are just jerks for no reason; you don't deserve to be treated this way, etc. Of course I've distracted myself to stop my hyperactive imagination from running a marathon. And needless to say I've named every single lovable thing about H to remind myself why I'm in this fulfilling relationship with a perfectly normal guy.

I've evaluated and re-evaluated each and every conversation we have had, and with heart-wrenching objectivity concluded that no one in their right minds or with a hint of decency would do anything of the things you did. My god, my poor friends have been through it over and over with me, even H was generous enough to discuss this whole issue with me.

Why couldn't it have finished when you walked away from my apt that night after telling me you were leaving? I would have cried and pouted for a bit but at the end of the day, I would have been completely OK.

What were your motives for calling me during that period of time? What would have happened had I brought my phone along to France instead of leaving them at Robin's place accidentally?

You know, it's like a mystery novel with its last chapters torn out - you just can't sleep until you know who killed the old lady.

Ah, bugger it all.