(NOTE: This is for a dear friend who is presently grieving for her heart that died just recently.
Oh dear. Been watching Grey’s Anatomy for three rockin’ days now. Holding a remote control on my right hand and my phone on my left while my eyes are busy scanning what my ears can hear. Clearly, what I’m doing is this thing called multi-tasking. And there’s a tumbler half full beside me. My UST tumbler. My favorite yellow tumbler. There’s something to say about a glass half full. I think we’re in a glass of wine. And we are two floating lemon slices, a barometer of love and satisfaction. And the glass is bottomless. And we keep on asking for more from each other because we both know we could give more for each other. That’s the logic. Give it a shot. Give it your best shot.
Strutting past the memories, darting through the door and out in the cold Christmas-breezed night on her bare feet, my friend stared at the moon with that sad look upon her face. She couldn’t take it anymore. She just got hurt, more so dumped in a manner that’s completely unacceptable on our part as girls especially in cases like this where she doesn’t deserve a bleeding heart.
It’s not that it’s us girls who should always do the dumping, but believe me, it could have hurt her less had he not made her fall for him then just take away what she thought belonged to her all this time: his heart. He could have said things the right way. I couldn’t believe that this would be his way of ending what she thought was her perfectly carved fate.
For years, she’d been constantly thinking of him. She’s in love without a doubt. And honestly, I don’t have the slightest idea of what made her love him more than she ever did her life.
So, she’s over her ex. I thought that was bad. But this one was worse, and what’s worst? I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about it. She literally gave him every piece of what was left of her from the past relationship. And I thought that she just picked up from where she left off. Now where and how is she going to start all over again? I gave her pointers but it’s for her to take control of what seems to be a nightmare. It’s up to her.
For the past three weeks, and I’m talking about the third and fourth week of March plus April’s first two weeks, the news feeds kept pouring heartbreaking words like “letting go” and “moving on”. And it’s hateful. You know, broken hearts, lacrimal glands going so overactive like Nile River, the works of heartaches. And recently, a friend’s heart got shattered in pieces.
Girls. Most often than not, we love more than boys do. Admit it or not. I clearly don’t understand why would he make her wait for nothing. Tell her things and show her signs like he’s so into her. And that, that’s nothing but a crime. Make her wait for nothing. Boys could be every girl’s greatest nightmare. And it’s sad when a girl thinks it’s a fairytale dream when really, it’s nothing but a nightmare with a bunch of chauvinistic monsters making her fall in love by whispering sweet nothings and going out on a movie date. I hate those kind of boys most especially when a friend is involved.
There are sonnets and sonatas, or odes and elegies. Either way, we fall in love until there’s no chance of getting out. In her case, it’s an elegy because her delicate heart died. It died the hard way. And she mourned . Heartaches will become inevitable every once in a while.
Once your heart gets broken, you can’t just grieve forever. That’s the last thing that you should do. And the first on the list?
Nobody said it was easy. But it’s all in the mind. It’s either you complicate it or you find the best way to get yourself out of this mess. Your glass heart just got broken, and if you don’t fix it, you will surely bleed to death. It’s easy to tell someone to move on.
But how to do it is the biggest question.
I know some ways, but they won’t work if she won’t give them a try. It’s not like they’re gonna work on their own. They are not good Samaritans. And the one thing that my friend should be doing at this very moment is to push through the pain. And never relive, much more reminisce, any memory she had with him. Because that’s just like being an accessory to the crime that he committed. To cut it short, it would be like she helped him hurt her. And that’s not so good, neither funny. It’s adding insult to injury and it’s like slapping her own face because she did it to herself.
POINTERS, POINTERS, POINTERS.
Start each day right once you’ve decided to move on. Forget the man who caused you the kind of pain that’s not friends with all the analgesics in the world. Try taking some steps away from the dark alley. Even if they’re just baby steps, at least give them a try.
Give away anything he has given you, gifts like teddy bears that you couldn’t cuddle anymore. Give them to anyone out there that you don’t know. If you’re that eager to move on, you should try riding on a bus and throwing the teddy bear out of the window when you’re 5,000 miles away. A beggar might pick it up, and that cuddly bear won’t make its way back to you. For sure.
The letters? What to do with the letters. Those sweet words written between each blue line must now be too disgusting for you to read over and over again. So yeah, burn them to ashes then pour them onto the sea. Fishes could eat them. At least there are two living organisms that would benefit from your “moving on”: you and the fish. Great choice.
Chocolate wrappers, crumple them and throw them in the garbage bin. Because it’s too horrifying to see those wrappers lying around your room’s floor. Besides, what are you gonna do with those trash? There aren’t anything edible on them anymore. So get them in the black bag and give them to the garbage collector and within a minute or two, your chocolate wrappers won’t smell or even look like chocolate wrappers to you.
It’s a joke, you know, deleting his number when you both know that you know his number by heart. So the best thing that you can do is start the change from you. Change numbers. And you know very well what’s that for.
Friends could help you move on too by not mentioning his name or updating you on his whereabouts if he happens to be one of your friend’s work mate or neighbor.
Pictures. Cut them into the smallest size possible just like the size of the small letter “e” that you were told to bring back in Biology. They won’t make a good puzzle, I promise. Because for one, they are microscopic. And you’re not seriously going to put them together until you come out with an album.
Theme songs? Just delete them from your music player and don’t get a radio to entertain you for the time being that you’re trying to move on.
Places. Don’t take time to sit on the bench you used to sit on with him. Benches are stupid because sometimes, you will see your names written on them and when you do, it will feel like they’re screaming about your lonely past back at you.
Stand up and walk away.
Stop taking U-turns down Memory Lane.
Stay away from sad movies.
Cry your heart out and my last advice?
Get a life. Get a busy life. Become a workaholic. Live like a workaholic. But never forget to stay beautiful because honey, being beautiful after a heartache is sure to hit too many birds with one stone. It’s a sweet revenge. Believe me.
It’s definitely a struggle. You know, moving on. All you have is your shattered, bruised and battered heart and maybe a pillow soaked in tears. It’s not easy but you have to give it a try if you want to come out of the storm alive and ok. There is no need for suicides. Basically, your heart just died. So why go on a hunger strike and kill yourself twice? He’s not coming back either. So, I’m giving away the logic I know.
If a man makes you cry, then he’s not really a man but a boy who’s afraid to show that he’s the one who fears more. He’s scared of letting his guards down and be just like us women; we love unconditionally and we are not afraid of taking chances. We always see things with a positive eye and we are not scared of taking risks and failing because everyday is a chance to make every damn thing right.
If a boy makes you cry once, forgive him. Make the starry sky your witness. But if he keeps on pulling every strand of patience within you hoping you’d still tie them up into knots and continue living a forgive-and-forget kind of relationship, go get a box and throw away every memento you’ve had with him. The garbage bins won’t say NO to your ‘trash’. The very definition of your relationship? One word. CRAP. Second chances, say YES to them. Third and fourth and fifth? Hell to the NO.
It has been said over and over again for God-knows-how-long, that there are many fishes in the sea. Right. So if somebody hurts you so bad that you almost felt like wishing you’ve never been born, that’s the perfect way to start moving on; look for those fishes worth swimming with. There will always be that someone who’s gonna love you selflessly. You sure deserve someone better. Keep your hopes up.
And another tip. Never regret that you had loved but got hurt. You know for a fact that what happened between the two of you was a lesson learned and that you are benefitting from it. Why? Think. Think hard. If your ex didn’t do what he did, you wouldn’t find the joy of today. If you and your YESTERDAY weren’t in despair, you wouldn’t be where you are right NOW. Happy and contented.
It’s a matter of the heart and the mind. When you’re completely down and low, someone will take you in his arms and carry you along the journey you are destined to go through.
Drink coffee and calm your senses. Take deep breaths and fan yourself with your two hands which fit well with those of the man whom you truly deserve. Flip your hair and walk on by. Try to seize each day and who knows? Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow is the right time when you’ll bump into your Mr. Right.
There are melodies that’s sure to hit your heart with a blow that would cause tears and bloodshed. But tell you what, that someone who’s carrying you will hum you a tune you’ll never forget and eventually, you’ll love it.
So move on and forget your hurtful past. Take a deep breath and get on your feet.
In God’s time you’ll cross paths with the one who’s worth the wait.