THE DAY OF THE FORTY-FOUR SUNSETS

Dear Internet Strangers,

It has been a tough time. If you read my recent posts, you'd know what I went through. The short of the short of it is that I lost a friend, I lost that friend's trust, I lost a love and I lost myself. It had been emotionally overwhelming and distressing on my part, and though I've talked to a few close friends about it, the best way in which I'm dealing with it is through writing.

I know that I can't keep writing about him, but maybe I do it because it's all I have of him that I can destroy. I already lost him and I already threw and deleted everything that concerns him or reminds me of him, and so for the past few days I've just been venting the sadness out through my writing. It's not a hundred percent healing process, and at other times it's not even healthy. The other night I wrote a piece telling him to fuck with his life, but then just last night I wrote another one about missing him. I have not allowed myself to miss him anymore, yet it was out there - so raw, so forgiving, so humble. I wanted the hate to come back. It was a horrible feeling, but it was better than helplessness. 

I try to remember his cruel words, his tired voice, the lackluster look in his eyes while I was crying, the way he pushed my hands away when I was trying to hold his, and finally - for the past months when we were together, all the pretense and exasperation that he has to deal with me. 

He never said this, but I know in the back of his mind, he must be so relieved to have finally gotten rid of me. I didn't even have to ask him to steer clear from my path, it was something that he can do so naturally. This is not self-pity, this is the truth. He was worse than all the other men I've ever dated, and I say worse because all the other men didn't get through after the first or second date. I'd always call it off if I didn't feel like it, or they'd always just simply fade away. Fine with me. The quicker you disappear, the lesser the emotional involvement. No problem.

But him - he made it last quite longer than expected. Along with mega patience skills, he was a great pretender. He was patient with my craziness, my masculine tendencies, my potty mouth and my pinches. He pretended to like my poetry and my company when the truth was that he was lonely and he needed someone to crack him up while his love was a thousand miles away. That is the most painful sentence I've ever written and I don't know what I ever did to deserve being treated that way. He wasn't even just anybody, you know. More than anything, we were friends first. That's why it hurts the way it does. We were friends first, but still he allowed it all to happen. A friend will never hurt you this way. 

This is the last time that I'll be writing about this. It was necessary for me to write, to let it all out, even if it's just to strangers from the internet halfway around the world, but the emotion-filled writing has to end somehow. And this is where it ends. 

This is also the last post from this blog. I can't write something fresh with all the sad energy filled in here, and I also can't delete all the sad posts because they were a part of me, of the things I feel and the way I see them being at a low point in my life. I feel the need to create a new blog for creative posts with less darker, less personal themes. When the time is right, I'll visit this blog again and read all the emotions I've locked in here. Maybe I'd then just laugh about it or cringe at my being such a fool. But I tell you, at this point, there was no exaggeration needed for all those posts.

Dear internet strangers, protect your hearts. Seek the truth before it's too late. Love your potty mouth. Don't ruin love by wanting it so much, or faking it so much. Never hurt a person, even those who deserve it. Most of all, stay away from assholes. Learn how to spot one even before he opens his mouth, and if you find one, tell him to fuck himself and steer him away from you and your friends. Karma happens to assholes - this is a convenient little truth. 

So this is goodbye. I won't be giving you the address of my new blog in here. If you're meant to find me somewhere else, you will. Which means that if you look hard enough, if you find a way, you will find me. I am taking my wounded, fractured infinite blank book somewhere new, in a land without hate or pretense, and I hope to find you there soon. When I do, I hope you and I are better.