Tainting the new blog with drops of emo wasn't in the plan. I was trying my darndest to stay as far away from that topic as possible. But tonight, because I wanted a no-qualms audience while I fumble for words, I have decided to use this channel the way it was meant to be used, as a personal emotional toilet, without the convenience of a flush.
Like the song goes, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Be warned though, this may be the most gag-inducing entry in this blog as of present. That is, here in Blogspot. LJ posts still top the list of things that can make Elmo want to slash his wrist.
After all that intro, I'd hate to disappoint. Let's get on with the crying, shall we?
Before the boohoos, I apologize for the LJ putdown. I do not hate LiveJournal nor do I dislike it. I have an account, actually. But for tonight, it is precisely the reason for my wanting to take an emotional dump.
There are things in life that tear you apart, and once damaged, you will never be the same again.
As for me, what caused irreparable damage was getting a close look at my current flame's brighter flames. (wipe your frowns away please) In less dramatic words, I've read several years worth of very public LJ entries of two people madly and passionately in love, and wrote about it daily for the world to see. Their flames burned so bright that it was awe-inspiring in its grandeur. And because I had an insider's point of view, watching from the sidelines as they professed their burning love for each other, as if I was with them while the fire was very much alive, I was burned.
It's as if watching a chick flick of your partner paired up with perfection. Say for example, the sappy The Notebook. If you've seen it, you'd know that the movie revolves around the story of the characters, Noah and Allie. They fell in love when they were young, and although certain events drove them apart, their love for each other never went away. They eventually ended up together despite all the obstacles. And when they were older, Noah patiently stayed by Allie's side reading her their love story day by day, as she whiles away with Alzheimer's disease, not remembering herself, more so the people around her. It is a beautiful story of fiery love, enduring love, unending love.
It is unbearably sweet, but in line with the analogy; your man is Noah, you're not Allie and you have front row tickets to watch them be mesmerized by each other.
That is how knowing past intimate details feels like. That knowledge has created for me my own personal monster; it eats me, gnaws at my strength, nibbles away my confidence, creeps up on me, shows up its ugly head in the most inopportune moments, and I hate it. I'm beginning to hate myself for it too.
The funny thing about all this is that I have been accused often enough, by a number of people, of being distant, aloof, and even uncaring at times. I AM distant, aloof, and uncaring at times. In all honesty, this being greatly affected by the past, it's a very new and scary thing for me. It is extremely frustrating, because for once in my life, I cannot keep these unruly emotions in check.