Tonight is another night that I feel like a Sims character, and whoever controls my actions must have forgotten to exit the game. So here I am, lying on my bed with a smartphone screen shining brighter than the sun at a destructive distance. I wish someone could guide me to sleep, or at least drag me to a place where daylight never shuts.
We kind of ran off the love orbit, which caused a terrible dysfunction of my heart. The fact that he seems to take it so casually disturbs me worse than the collapse of the entire universe of us.
If there is anything that is more horrifying than nightmares, it’s probably the arrival of the night itself. I am now half dead – half alive. A weak penetration of the sunbeam dazzles my swollen eyes, it’s a new day at last. For as long as I can remember, I have trouble sleeping because the night usually falls in despair. When the city and the people around me are all asleep, my mind will depart for its own adventure and it often gets lost in a bundle of questions. I like talking to myself about the meaning of a human existence. Because I used to think that I had everything figured out, that I wanted this boy to be my soulmate and had the rest of our lives written in a Disney movie script, and then we broke up and now I am just me. Isn’t it ironic? Girls at my age are enjoying the glamor of being in the 20s while I spend days and nights wondering if this whole living thing is only a video game. I find sleeping is like a perpetual mental punishment to myself. Because once the sun appears, life carries on relentlessly despite the sleepless hours that are haunted by the thoughts of him.
In novels, it is okay to be broken because the protagonist is destined to be rescued by a hot billionaire somehow. But I don’t have the luxury to feel sad or to refuse living. Reality sucks and I am no one’s main character. My friends know that I need a remedy. But they keep bashing my idea of calling him as a remedy. I hate night time because I always end up (subconsciously) texting him anyway. That’s the thing about breaking up, either one of us will lose control over the battle of letting go.
I thought our scenario was going to be different at first (that we would still be friends), but all failed relationships are the same, things are always ugly and memories become thousands of needles stabbing through your heart no matter how dear they are to you.
Every now and then, I promise myself that I will do something extraordinary but I’m never quite sure what it’s going to be. For now, I just like to cocoon at my usual nest in this suffocating city where I can calmly embrace my loneliness. It is a typical coffee shop with a bright and open-space design that seems big enough to contain my depression. They also have my favorite jam, a melancholy but assuring sound.
Being heartbroken is not the end of the world, at least during the daytime, it is a chance for me to collect random thoughts and make sense of things beyond the circle of love. I actually enjoy the time that I spend alone at this place. Although I should be studying, textbooks don’t really make a good companion for moments like this. So I observe people instead. I try to read the emotions on a random face, occasionally see how people talk and laugh to each other. I’m not sure to what extent my stalking is like, but I manage to fathom the human expressions and I make up stories out of them. I notice that this place has many frequent dwellers like myself. There’s this boy who always sits at the table right in front of my spot, I recognize him mostly from the back. When I get to see his face, it strikes me how this blissful spirit can ever be so lonely in such a cozy place. I feel like he already has an interesting story to tell underneath that slender appearance, but I guess I will never know.
When my mind is back to its original state, it is yet again filled with a series of alphabets that make up his name and our moments, which sucks because they feed my brain with the image of him. This particular table, at this particular coffee shop, is where our story ended.
I leave after a call. It’s him.
Because of some strange force, he replied to the clueless text that I sent to him yesterday. I swear at my Sims controller for not cancelling my action at that moment. People always do stupid things at the wee hours of the night, texting your ex is one of them. I fear the unknowns that may soon become my nightmares. Against all odds, I brave through the traffic to where he is like an arrow darting forth. Well it’s been months seen we last met. I feel relieved to know that he still exists in my world.
He is waiting for me in the park nearby his house. I gracefully approach him from behind, frightened and excited at the same time. By now, I’ve prepared thousands of phrases to respond to any thing that he may say, or rather things that I secretly hope he will tell me.
The night is here and its stillness is suddenly louder than ever before. But all at once, I feel stuck right where I am right now, only a few miles away from this familiar back of the boy who I can’t stop loving. I look around me and realize how everything just falls into place. All of the nights when my eyes won’t shut until the clock turns 4, when I constantly ask myself if I can ever untangle this giant mess, flashback in the sheer moment of now. I realize that whatever awaits ahead of me is going to knock me down all over.
I leave without a hesitation. It’s him.
The street lights fall behind me like shooting stars, and I feel fine. I need no deeper cut on my wounds. All I want to do now is to go home and let him know that he should seal his thoughts and I will do the same. The surface of my pillow never feel so comfortable before, I quickly fall asleep, but strangely tears are still pouring down.
I wake up to his text, he asked me if I was okay. It makes me smile. And I am reminded of my favorite saying:
True love doesn’t have a happy ending, because true love never ends. Letting go is one way of saying I love you.
Let me tell you, we didn’t end up together. Let’s see what happens next =)