Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Twenty-one years of solitude. Twenty-one years of individualism or should I rather say, more than two decades of self-escapades? I just couldn’t care less how most of my friends used to think that I belong to the third sex community. Why? Simply because I am single all my life – well, for at least twenty-one years.

I was at first surprised on how this generation where I belong seems to give so much importance to being in or having the so-called, “romantic relationship.” I was – and still I am - a living testament that a single person could live a better life, free from the hassles of being committed with someone. But, at the back of my mind, I was bugged by the thought, “How does it really feel to have that someone?”


Dedicated to fulfilling my distant dreams, I continued being an outcast in a world where love life matters. I continued my lonesome journey making sure not to be tempted by the sweetest bid of my generation, or should I say, of every generation. It was, and it really was hard. Imagine how I let go of the thing called “love” when it knocked at my door not just once, but twice. Two loves lost perhaps.

The masquerade of happiness taunted me every time I see how I gambled my personal joy with the prerequisites of a very demanding and pressure-filled world (that’s where I belong!). Phases of nostalgia came rushing down as if telling me how stupid I was for letting love go without giving it a chance. Regrets-filled. I think that would be the best words that could describe how I ventured my twenty-one years journey.

A Ray of Red

But things have changed three months after I celebrated my twenty-first birthday. It was perhaps, a major turn of events. It was like love knocked real hard that I just caught it bugging my world. For the first time, I gladly accepted my fate, to love and be loved by a man who I truly admired and yes, I do really love. A man who once knocked but I left the door closed so as not to be disturbed. At last, I’m free from the very judgmental eyes of people who thought I was a lesbian – though it has nothing to do with why I entered the relationship.

And so I was happy, and I guess he was too. It was not an ordinary love story that started with a bunch of roses and chocolates, exchanges of sweet-nothing text messages, often visits at home, and the like, which actually comprises the “ligawan stage.” We never indulge ourselves into that. Perhaps that was because we are best of friends. Yes, we are friends turn lovers – without planning it of course. I guess that is what love is all about, being into it without neither planning nor realizing that you’re hooked to it already. It’s like you just woke up and the truth lies beside you whether you like it or not.

Just like any other couple, we were happy having each other around. We often have long talks and exchange of “I love you’s.” Undoubtedly, I couldn’t truly express how joyful I was during those times. Alas! I have my own love story to share to my folks. Unlike before, my role was to act like I am the greatest listener of my friend’s love affairs while thinking about how my love story would be, but of course, without their knowledge.

The Painful Turn

But unfortunately, it wasn’t inspired by the usual fairytale ending, “…and they live happily ever after.” In just two months, we’re done. It was a shocking reality that hit me, my first heartbreak. I didn’t even have a hint that things will turn that way. Never did it cross my mind that that scene would come in such an early stage.

Admittedly though, we had our share of a couple of misunderstandings in that short period of time. But I’d say we’ve handled it maturely. We were the type of couple who talk things over and won’t let anything just pass without sitting and tackling it out. We were okay as far as our last week of being together is concern.

Apparently, my world was shattered. I’ve had a lot of queries that even up to this moment, I still haven’t found the answers. My once upon a time sweet love story ended in a shot taken wherein I was not prepared to take a pose. My self-esteem was crushed into tiny pieces. I didn’t even have the courage to face the world after that forgettable yet memorable night.

I’ve had my share of sleepless nights, crying myself to sleep, loss of appetite, loner times, if only monologues, and yes, I went through the painful process or should I say stage of depression. I was in denial of the truth. I just couldn’t accept why when all along I thought we’re fine, this had to happen.

Coping Up

After all that happened though, I was never mad at him. Not even a single day has passed that he did not cross my mind. A fact which a lot of people might think, I’m the most stupid person on earth. Imagine, knowing that it was him who ended it, he was the one who dumped me, I on the contrary was still the one doing favors for him.

I was hurt, yes indeed. But, I was the one who made things a lot easier for both of us. He asked for our friendship to stay, and so I did. It wasn’t easy. Imagine how hurtful it was for me yet there I was texting him as if nothing happened. I guess I owe myself a best actress award for being such a girl. But I admit, though it was painful to act that way, I still did. After all, he was my best friend even before we decided to take our friendship one step higher. I won’t allow our six years friendship be trashed just because we split up anyway – and I think that’s vice versa.

Apparently, we remained friends though the bond that we used to have hasn’t returned yet. Well I guess, time and only time alone can tell. But if there’s one thing that I am sure of, it’s the fact that he has been and will always be someone special in my life.

Learning From “It”

When I was single, my definition of love was as simple as being happy with someone special. But when I encountered it, I realized that there is no exact definition of love, for love defines itself. It’s a gamble, that’s a fact. For when you allow it to enter into your peaceful being, you’re also allowing all the emotions that come with it.

Loving means allowing your self to be hurt, that’s true. For love is not just about being happy all the time, it’s about allowing yourself to be hurt and to offer a sacrifice. It’s not a fantastic joyride as we often thought it is. I know I still have a long way to go to learn what this magical word truly means. I know I still haven’t encountered even half of it. And so, I won’t give up, up until I’ll know what it is really all about – though I feel it would be an endless search.

For now I will pause for awhile. I’ll let all the pain be cast away first, and if in time, love knocks on my door again, I’d gladly let him in for as long as I’m way behind this throbbing yet joyful past. For now I’ll be back from my old status, but there’s a little difference, it’s that I’m far better than who I am then.


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