I’ve been distracted. From writing.
It’s a temporary affliction, I assure you.
With finals week looming over my head, my current life mainly consists of alternating between my studies and rewarding myself with episodes of Korean dramas/movies. So, I haven’t really had the time to focus on blogging. And instead of writing before bed, I’ve taken up leisure reading, which is something I NEVER do during the academic year. The current book is a whim (a collection of poems by Rumi) that I picked up from Barnes & Noble over the weekend.
However, it’s not so much distraction as it is dissatisfaction. My thoughts are in chaotic limbo, so please...consider yourself forewarned.
I scolded him when I wrote back the other day. For being bored in Darmstadt.
I gave him the quote from my dad on how the world is like a book, urged him to “read more lines,” and joked that he was seriously being jipped if he—especially with the thirst for activity I know he has—didn’t take full advantage during his stay. I also wrote that it takes me awhile to build a new heart so he can stop asking if I’ve met anybody new, thanks.
Truthfully, even if I did, I think it'd be difficult to make work.
You see, during this time I’d be too suspicious that I was just exhibiting rebound behavior or something. And I must confess...that’s also the reason I haven’t gone clubbin’ at all this semester, believe it or not. You know how I once wrote that the darkness of the night reminded me of him? It’s because I often spent the evenings with him and even when separately with our friends, we spent a good amount of our nights together. So, I knew that this new start of not having the option of his arms to hold me afterwards would crush my heart, flat out overwhelm it with loneliness and/or longing.
Yup, and that concludes the impromptu sob story of why I stopped going to nightclubs on weekends.
Honestly, the appeal has totally been lost and I don’t know if it’ll ever come back since I can satisfy my dance urges at private parties with friends or rockin’ it out alone in my room to all my favorite songs.
On a side note, not partying it up as much as I used to has saved me a shit load of money. Once, my mom even asked if I was secretly working a job on the side because (1) my money market account, for which the account statements are sent home, has been growing faster than usual and (2) she already knows I don’t like receiving a monthly allowance, especially since it keeps increasing (“To keep up with inflation!” she claims). For someone who has never had an allowance growing up, to suddenly be given so much money after entering college still bewilders me.
Another reason, I’m what most people would call…cute when drunk. Think of it as my normal crazy impulsiveness in happy overdrive. I’ve also a tendency to be very, very...friendly. That sort of uninhibited attraction is absolutely fine when I’m raising hell with good friends (gets diffused amongst us) or when my heart is already engaged (gets channeled towards that one person). Otherwise, I fear the alcohol would make me do something my self-esteem would probably definitely regret. So, I’ve taken care not to put myself in situations where rebound behavior could possibly come out and bite me in the ass (if you haven’t noticed, I tend to curse more when stressed from exams, too).
But I’ve digressed.
This post has drifted so far from the originally intended topic (see title for a refresher)… I’ll have to re-start this topic another day, as tonight I’m not sure exactly what I’m blabbering about.
Oh, and did you know? I remember the exact moment when I lose my heart to someone.
Sure, I’ll be somewhat unclear as to all the reasons WHY...in fact, I’m likely to drive myself crazy trying to figure it all out. But I know that once given away, it’s GONE and even if I could, I don’t want it back (ideally, I’d want that person to give me his heart instead).
And for that very reason, I’m scared.
Because I fear that if I see—in the flesh—the person who broke my heart, he could take this new one I’ve only just begun to re-build. I fear that, and it frustrates me as it means that on some level, I also don’t trust my heart. Or perhaps I am stronger, have come further than I think. However, sometimes I get to thinking...what if I’m more scared that in meeting each other again, I would realize I’m over him, over it ALL.
For if that were the case, it means I can’t use nursing-the-broken-heart or still-hung-up-over-the-past-heart to cowardly guard my heart away in oblivion.
So, maybe all I know for sure is that…I’m never going to be sure.
And maybe, just maybe, for now that’s good enough.
