Memoirs of an Amnesiac

I wish I could wait for Valentine's Day to post this blog but I can't since I don't celebrate it since years back.

I don't remember exactly the day I met Cupid but I do remember that I had liked this particular boy one time. I was in elementary (Wait, don't get me wrong. It was just a harmless crush.) and he was a classmate of mine who was always on top of our class. He stood one time when asked by my teacher to answer a math problem. Math, being my waterloo was something he solved with a swagger. When he sat down, he had me lovestruck. I couldn't think of any other person besides him. I think that was the time Cupid and I were personally introduced. Unlike all his defenseless victims of love, Cupid did not strike me with his most deadly arrow of love. Besides, in my young heart, it was just a new feeling, something that didn't really make any impact on me. Or so I thought.

My father had always had his hand in terms of matters of the heart and he had been especially protective of me, being his only daughter. He kept telling me how much waiting for the right man would be really worth it. He'd often say, "Asa raman na ang mga laki ba ug makatiwas kag eskwela?" Being the obedient daughter, I finished my degree and obsequiously followed my father's advice. When I graduated from college, I didn't know that Cupid would come back, this time with a much stronger arrow. I was not just love struck but it hit me head on. I met one man who made me feel how wonderful it is to be loved (only to realize now that love and its end results were like medicine--a bitter pill to swallow).

I couldn't say it was love at first sight but I did feel it was something serious. It lasted for about two years until the "magic" faded. We slowly faded into each other's lives. We're back to the first part of the cycle as being lovers --- we became complete strangers. Anyone who had been into a serious relationship and lost it or decided to just let it go could agree with me that there are no words to describe how much painful being broken-hearted could be. I used to think the movies are overdoing it. It was real and I myself had a bitter taste of it. I couldn't sleep and I was always so anxious and scared about what the future holds for me (since I had placed my world in his. My bad.). The pain was so unbearable that I kept musing how much of a strong organ our hearts are to ever hold such strain.

The catastrophe is over now. I have come to terms with myself and how much of a good lover I am. I have learned to place other's sake rather than my own (since I have become too selfish to just think about my own happiness over my family's advice). Truly pain makes one strong.

I learned through pain that in love, the facade do not always have to be the real one. The head still has to be consulted in terms of decisions, especially those that concern the heart. Sure it's nice to hear about love that risks amid struggles. They always sell as good plots in cinemas, anyway. But it is always worth waiting for the right time and the right man.

Although at times it can be difficult to detoxify oneself from all the memories that haunt like ghosts each night, I have made my resolve to just bury them in my mind. This might sound morbid but I do visualize that guy's name printed on a tombstone inside my head, especially when I had those nights when I want to reach out and text him. I know I have to constantly remind myself how much doing something to win back the relationship is not going anywhere. It just had to die eventually.

Cupid some years ago ( I really don't care so much about it so that I wouldn't have to celebrate its death anniversary), along with his promises of a love that is everlasting, the kind that makes one lovestruck, waxing poetry and doing the most insane things. His power no longer has bearing on me. I have placed myself on a love sabbatical for a year or so.

Cupid, may you rest in peace.