Aspirational

My writing has been suffering for some time now. And it’s sad that I have deliberately avoided it and all other literary works: no poems, no short stories, not even a decent piece of short prose. My novel suffered tremendously; as I lost the appetite to do the one thing I loved doing the most.

But why, oh why?

Because. I got stuck in the intricacies of a complicated thing called heartbreak, and its even more complicated sibling, which is moving on.

Over Sunday’s brunch, B told me I needed to get out of my rut, to cheer up, to move on! Oh. For the first time in our short life together B, I hated you for telling me that.

I hated you because you made it sound like I wanted to be stuck in that rut and wallow and swim in self-pity. I hated you because you made me feel so dumb that I couldn’t find my way out of this maze. But you know what, B? If only I kept away from people like you and her, then I wouldn’t be this heartbroken. Didn’t you know that?

How could I even begin to move on? Getting by is difficult enough. *Sigh.* If only I didn’t love her that much…

Oh, well. I read somewhere about a list of things to do (and not to do) to survive a heartbreak and learn to move on. Whoa. The writer called it a gameplan. A gameplan?!? Wtf! What’s with you, people?!? Is that it? To survive a heartbreak in this time and age, one needs a gameplan? Jesus Christ.

B argues that I am slowly becoming cynical. Well, maybe I am. Maybe I want to be one. Maybe.

Tell me, B. How do I take away the good memories? Is it as easy as shoving it back to the farthest place in my mind? How do I forget? How do I forget that once again, I’ve been had by someone I trusted and loved deeply?

Oh, maybe in time, I will. Maybe in time, I will forget as new memories are added on into my database of a brain. Maybe in time, I will learn to let go as I acquire new knowledge, experiences, information. But right now, barely a month after quitting her, let me be heartbroken. Let me be how I should be.

You see, B, moving on is only aspirational. It’s not real.

Not at all.