Please break my heart.
Break my heart so that I will write about you. Break my heart so that the whole world will know who you are. Break my heart, love me once more, then leave and haunt me again.
Please tell me you love me.
Because I know you don’t.
Please make me wait.
Make me wait for nothing. Tell me to be patient. Tell me that destiny chooses the best timing, and that one day we will have what we can call “ours”, so that I will have something to hope for.
Please keep me away from the world.
Don’t tell your mom about me. Don’t even mention my name. Hide me in the darkest corner of your mind, so that somehow, I will feel special—only thought of by you.
And one day when you realize how kind of a person you are for doing all of these sincerely, please come to me. I will be waiting for you.
I will be waiting for you to break my heart again.
(image source: WeHeartIt user @Pink_Slippers)
*For all the times you sent me sweet good night texts or attended my plays or watched something I said was good. For all the times you had no one and I cared about you so much I couldn’t leave you alone. For all the times we were actually friends.
I have always hated the way you talk to me. I was just too blind to notice since my feelings were “partly cloudy” because of you. I wrote you a poem. Damn. I wrote you a hundred poems. I hate you. Fuck you. Fuck. You. I hope you die and go to hell.
Your haircut sucks. You look like a demented iguana. I want to punch you in the face so bad. I hate you for making me feel like SHIT. Oh yeah, you wanted to feel good about yourself. I was your safety net. But guess what? FUCK YOU. I am not falling for you. And your sweet moves. Never again.
I am an independent and beautiful young woman. I shouldn’t be crying because of pricks like you. My mind is a complex whirlpool of secrets that you don’t deserve. Because you suck.
I fell for that stupid smile you make when you try to annoy me. Well, fuck your smile. Fuck your witty opinions. Fuck your carefree attitude. Fuck everything about you. I could snatch your eyeballs and sell it. I am so moving on. I’ve actually come up with twenty three ways on how to kill you.
Jo dear, I know you always loved to kid around but I am not a joke. I am not a kid. I don’t like jokes. And I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. And I hate you for making me hate you.
(Artist yet unknown)
“You are afraid to be beaten, to show up unprepared, and to lose in the only game you were winning in. You hate it. You suffer from a creative constipation and you don’t know how to get rid of it. It carries an unwanted feeling that itches inside, and the ticking of the clock reminds you that it can fly right between your eyes. You don’t want to give up. You don’t want to settle for less. Because you know you can do this. You know that when you stumble, you can rise up again. You don’t want to pressure yourself, so don’t. Everybody makes mistakes. Everybody learns the hard way. You need to set it all free. Remember the days when everything around you inspires you. Remember every little detail of your favourite song, or movie, or book. Remember everything that once inspired you. Because I’m telling you, if you don’t show your ass up tomorrow, or if you show your ass up tomorrow with an unfinished or not memorized speech, I can guarantee that you will regret it your whole life. Do things your future self will thank you for. Isn’t that what you used to tell yourself when you were feeling so lost? So go and do it. You cannot just sit there and wait for the perfect moment to happen to you. Go ahead and make it. Be resilient. Be confident. There’s no one else I know that can do this but you.”
Shizama Utami, “A letter I wrote to myself”
No, I’m not a friend who overthinks a lot
No, I’m not exaggeratingly sensitive
I just care about my friends in a way that’s too obvious
because I can’t afford to lose one again
when I already lost a dozen.
The clash of a tornado and an earthquake can bid you goodbye. Rift valleys are present. Our diverging friendship creates tsunamis that consume our never ending arguments. I’m going to express myself in my own language, so let me say this in Tagalog:
“Hindi ako OA na kaibigan, manhid lang kayo.”
I’m traveling around my own yellow brick road which still has a touch of immaturity, but I’m not going to lie about me experiencing too much. My body becomes torpid whenever I hear somebody complain about my concerned deeds. Especially if it’s one of the closest human beings I treat like family. It sucks. It’s like being slapped in your cheek, except it’s an emotional pain. When I try to touch it, the affected part spreads like wildfire in my body. It goes red. My whole body goes red. I taste sour blood on my lips and sweet despair in my soul.
I’m tired of being treated like I don’t matter. One time we had an argument, and I was the only one who cried. The pain felt like my insides are being squished by a cactus. It was an oceanic-to-oceanic plate boundary. Insecurity wakes me up in the middle of the night and they know that. I’m also a professional jumper. I jump to conclusions. So when everyone has told their sides, I was petrified. I didn’t expect truth to be so derogatory. I guess I just have to live with that.
I don’t exactly know how to live with pain. I just do. And even though I have ridges in my ocean of tears, I still forgive. My friends are my epicenters, they are sources of my earthquakes. And somehow, I think we were once the Pangaea. But now we’re divided into 7 continental plates.
(picture from Baptiste, “Stunning Satellite Photos of Earth From Outer Space”)
We were the seasons together. Like roses, we bloomed with sophistication.
I trace my palm and remember our shared memories together.
I know this because I’ve felt it before.
It’s you all over again.
But there is the now.
Now is different.
Back then, I used to inhale the icy fog that surrounds us and exhale the things my emotions dictate me. How did I manage to treat you below zero degrees while having fragments of falling feelings for you? Crazy. One of them tells me that we were lucky to have each other, although “have” isn’t really the word for us. The truth is, there was never an ‘us’. But we had something for each other, something that was ours and something to fight for.
I can still clearly recall the weeks I kept avoiding you. My dilemma was swirling in an unending haze and I was caught up in it. I want you, but it seems complicated. When we pass each other at the halls, your eyes won’t set mine free. That’s when you do it. Your ‘look of home’. I felt guilty at my silent treatment, but hell, I wanted to snuggle up in your arms. Your sincerity, your protectiveness, and the look you used to give me when you were hiding your jealousy. Those are the things that I keep glued to my mind after all this time up to now when I stop and stare at you without you noticing.
But now, you have her.
I know you guys love each other, so I’ll pass.
However, I’m still thankful for the summer embers you ignited me with. Now I know that I can soar and touch the clouds. I know that someday I’ll miss your presence but when that time comes, you won’t be here with me. You’ll be with her. You’re the curtains that brush against my skin on a windy day. Once you touched my heart and felt my soul, you’re ready to leave.
But thank you. You became my hardest goodbye unexpectedly. Someday I’ll grow a garden out of all the seeds you planted upon me, and the seeds we planted together. And by the time everything is less complicated, I am never going to let you go again.
(painting by Clare Elsaesser)