This month marks the third year since that misery and hopelessness happened - and it's funny how today, I woke up and told myself that I'm finally letting go - I've said this several times before, but this is the only time it felt genuine to me.

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It's been 3 years and I can still feel the pain and sadness I've gone throughout these years since that day. Waking up everyday with a heavy heart felt like a punishment and I have to endure it all. I still can't believe I've gone through it. Although I may still be hurting, hurt doesn't bother me anymore - as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And it indeed is.

Reading that paragraph above as I currently type the second one right now, made me realize how pitiful I am. Well, if I say so, that's how I would describe it as that's how hurt I was because of that simple sad, beautiful and tragic love affair (or was it?). It was indeed tragic. The pain was not only emotional and mental, but it was also physical - it struck through the bones. And given I was already struggling mentally beforehand, that certain event doubled up my depression and anxiety leading me to withdraw from those around me. It fucked me up mentally. I got drawn into an idea I made up in my head, run in circles for something I couldn't and shouldn't chase, kept stepping back and forth. Literally, my whole world revolved in an idea and it certainly got me into wrong decisions in life. Looking back at it now, if I would have been asked to go back and do it all over again, I'd say I still want to, but I wouldn't because I'm choosing to do so. I'm letting go.

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There were certainly days where I could feel like I am no longer emotionally attached and days when I am. For the past weeks or so, I haven't felt that emotional attachment. I actually even told myself that "maybe, I've moved on" but that line was too familiar and for sure has been said a million times, so I never really expected anything - you're only gonna go back and forth in the end, it's an endless cycle.

And then last night, I had a dream. And that dream had me come to a realization that maybe over the past few years, I was only drawn into the idea that I am the only one who knows this person deep inside, and I am the only one who can understand this person, when I don't. When there were events where I wasn't there and things I wasn't told. I don't know anything but only the words I've only been told to. I thought by having the empathy, I could fix something that's broken. But I couldn't. I was only there as a backfill and that I was only mentioned in the book, not written an entire chapter.

It made me come to realize that it wasn't love at all - it was an obsession over fixing a broken thing. And when it refused to be fixed, I kept chasing it, thinking it's what it needs when it don't. At this point, it's not the other party's problem anymore, but mine. I ended up being the one that needs fixing. And I realized it myself - nobody can fix you but you.

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This is my confession and my story of letting go. 

Afterall, it wasn't love. I am letting go of something more than that.

Labels: heart vomit, prose

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