Once upon a time, I fell in-love with a boy. Not just any boy but the funniest boy in the world. We had tons of fun together. We hang out, have dinner together and talk until the wee hours of morning. We exchange queer ideas about life, zombies, potatoes, etc.
I didn’t mind sleeping at three in the morning even though I have an oration or extemporaneous contest hours later, as long as we’d talk I felt like everything’s in place – and I never regretted it. I’m not really sure how and why I fell in-love with him. Even up until now, the reason why I felt that way for him that way is unknown.
Anyways, I was really happy that time. Happy in a sense that it was my personal choice to like him, to feel that way, winning a contest would always require you to do your best, and your fate was always reliant to the judges’ decision but with love all you need is a choice and the best is always dependent in the eyes of the beholder.
Things changed, when I woke up not feeling anything, nothing at all. I ignored his smiles, his kindly gestures. Although I felt nothing it was worse than pain. It was like overcoming an addiction without the bliss of effort. Vague as it seems I was certain that I fell out of love.
I fell out of love at an age far to be considered fragile. Remembering these accounts did not make me feel stupid or arrogant neither does it pain me as it did before. It somewhat made me realize how feeble emotions are, how insignificant they can be in the long run and that was the most painful thing, realizing you did fall in love by getting your heart broken, not by anyone but by yourself.
Here, I realized that I am my own enemy. But with this realization I have ventured to the abyss of loneliness and stayed there for quite some time away from myself. Coming back I can conclude that the happiest people on earth are not those who triumphantly lives but those who overcome failure, that the only thing greater than the power of the mind is the courage of the heart to forgive yourself and forget, that the triumph of defeat is greater than failure.
P.S. I can still afford another heartache from the same person.