Anyway
Here’s Wonderwall
🎶
So, I’m guessing you recall this metaphoric jar of cute feeling things turned into fireflies and butterflies, right? We’ll get back into what happened to Jem later; today I’m addressing the real stuff.
Days ago, drowning in oceans of tears and angry monologues but also trying to be funny and kind to myself, I finally managed to open it effortlessly, as if no-thing had ever sealed it shut. It appears that when I crafted this thing, I cast a spell that time has since eroded.
I’ve always anticipated that opening the jar meant some of those captive feelings would escape and flutter away. But what I didn’t understand until now is that those were the ones that turned into good stuff.
I used to be so afraid of spreading more pain that I protected my wishes for the future; I didn’t want to waste them because I was too broken and weak to work on finding the way to them. And realistically speaking, it was a good choice.
Healing is never a straight line. You can work on purging all of those bad things while you’re making progress on building the perfect sandcastle.
While healing? Yes. We tend to think that everything is lost for good; been there, done that. But, there will be a day when you’ll just pronounce victory to yourself, and if you learn something, you will, perhaps, stop blaming yourself for everything.
In my experience, doing that is the hardest part, especially in a world that constantly makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be loved, like I’m hard to love, or like I’m the one who breaks the love she cherishes with snowballs of mistakes.
Whenever a big problem comes, the first thing that almost always comes to my mind is: this is all my fault, and I become the “what if I…” yours truly. I always forget how I work my ass hardest to be whatever I need myself to be and try to help others be the ones they need or discover new stuff about themselves.
I’m dearly sorry if I can’t be perfect all the time; that’s what makes me a human, I suppose. I will be constantly learning, which is also one of my favorite things to do.
And also, I sometimes embrace taking responsibility even when I’m not the one to blame, finding who’s the one to blame is a waste of space. I have known pain and loneliness, two things I don’t want anyone to feel, so it costs me zero to be understanding or focus on solutions to the problems arising.
I’m happy, in a bittersweet way, because I decided to wait. I did so to ensure I was ready to face the ebb and flow of my big, big emotions and the shifting values I assigned to events and people in my life. I did so because I wanted to love and be loved without feeling trapped in my own fears and insecurities.
What a hard thing, I know, not to see the world from outside that prison. You listen to the one you love or the one who loves you, repeating how beautiful your soul is, how you’re the one who saved them, how they love you for who you are when your mind is always telling you they’re lying.
Also, how harsh, allowing anxiety, depression, or fake realities to win over true love. But we’re just this; we’re only humans.
Again… I suppose.
I sought insight into my environment, which, rather than soothing me with platitudes, finally placed me at the bottom to let me confront my own blunt truths. As you already know, I decided I’m no longer an ice-cold scared being and embraced all my weaknesses and vulnerabilities because I thought it was worth it. I thought I was worthy.
My entire heart and soul melted in just a couple of days last week. I can’t even decide if I’m worthy when I seem to be the easiest person to throw away when I’m no longer useful, but I recovered this now liquid heart of mine and this troubled soul in a beautiful perfume bottle.
I did it just to remember that I felt something and it was as real as this pain of mine. But I also did it because it’s a new useful form of mine, you know, a “take your broken heart and make it into art” kind of mantra.
The raw perspectives challenge my pain-centric view of the world, tho — sometimes, I get necessary confrontations that stir up this tumultuous blend of emptiness and relief within me, wishing that one day, it’s no longer a “blend” but just relief, peace.
Amid the laughter of this Uber ride with the friendos, even the driver chuckled with discretion at my stupid sense of humor. I kinda felt vividly alive because I felt like myself. But then, at night, just when my head touched the pillow, I just wanted to sleep forever and live in a oneiric, magical, safe place.
Still, that feeling soon gave way to an introspective silence in my mind, prompting a realization, an epiphany, about the dual meanings words can hold, depending on the perspective from which we view them.
In other words, I brag about being a sweet “master of wording,” but I always screw things up by using the worst selection of words when I’m nervous or when I’m feeling too much. Which, yeah, happens a lot because I try to be just perfect while my fears are trying to trick me.
I know that this next thing is hard to believe, but one of my favorite words to discuss in life is love (amor, please, because Spanish will always be my favorite way to call it), so let’s delve deeper into it— its simplicity and its complexities.
For me, love is an essence surrounded by myriad factors that can either complicate or clarify its true nature. People tend to misgender love so much that I get angry. The problem is not love; the hard thing is not love. Love has a literal meaning, and it’s everything but negative.
Oh, I have a dejá vu as I write. Cool. Anyway.
I remember this interview where our dear, Britney Spears, got asked about her favorite “kind of Pepsi,” and she went with a very, fine, straightforward answer that stayed in our pop-culture junkie heads forever:
“My favorite kind of Pepsi? Pepsi is Pepsi!”
Sometimes, I get triggered like that when people blame love for their pain; oh, no. Love is not the thing to blame. Love is love. Yet, we often find ourselves entangled in the nuances that this thing entails.
Of course, this is also my case. My friends often question my stoic facade, pointing out the incongruities in my claims of detachment. Through tears and genuine concern, it becomes painfully evident that love drives much of my life’s ups and downs, highs and lows.
While I get in tsundere mode trying to avoid the fact that I’m a very loving and caring human being, there come my friends who laugh out loud at my face and say: “If you were so though, if you didn’t care at all, why are we having this conversation? Why are you crying? Why are you so worried? Why do you get to care at all?”
Nevertheless, I know. I’m deeply aware that love saved my life whenever I felt like there was nothing to fight for, when I thought I was lost and lonely. Despite the pain it sometimes brings, I root for these profound, heartfelt experiences.
Still, my past experiences also showed me a sad truth: love isn’t just about shared affection, about the romantic part of preserving others forever. It’s just about empathy, understanding, and letting go if necessary. Sometimes, this could seem unfair because the best things are not always easy, but, dear, it is what it is.
True love transforms and persists when appropriate timings arise, even when it changes form. Sometimes, it grows stronger and shinier, but it’s all about maturely balancing our feelings of pride and emotions, ensuring that we’re nurturing and maintaining every single important aspect of our lives.
I came up with this while gossiping with my friends about one’s love situations. (A) character told the other (B) that he would advice them to “look for someone who had everything in common with”; the other one didn’t agree a lot.
So I (C), who was just listening but not actively participating in the conversation, found a way to project my current feelings on it.
— I guess it’s not about having the superficial things in common… that would be too boring, at least for me — I said — I love someone who is not precisely my twin soul in tastes at all, but that’s how I learned and that’s how he learned about new cool stuff, I like to think.
So, for instance, the only thing that’s non-negotiable is that love relies upon being about the intersection of lives, the blending of differences to solve problems together, and the effort to understand one another despite the complexities that life throws our way.
Awkward silence preceded.
I’m not gonna lie, I came back to the bubble with this sense of emptiness, but I was relieved in a way. I needed to pronounce that to remember the why. As I mused silently, it became clear that in today’s anxious world, our insecurities and tendencies to overthink can distort our perceptions, leading us astray from those who genuinely care for us.
We have a shitload of things to learn, you guys.
Sadly, I’m a woman who grew a very solid idea of what true love is in her life and it’s not always a happy ending. In fact, I’m learning right now that I’m not meant to have this kind of thing, the happy ending. I’m always that movie that tells a beautiful story with a “gimme the tissue” ending, but it’s always about the part of love that means understanding and letting go.
Thank you, Destiny? Tho. I’m now improving at letting things go, even if I think it’s unfair. I’m also improving my avoidant attitude of pretending I don’t care. I’m fighting fear and being self-isolated again with my last strong shield and sword. I’ll recover later.
It’s something, I guess.
✖️
