Post-BreakUp

It's as if I just got out of a relationship, as if I just broke up with someone.

Post-breakUp, all you think about are the what ifs, the could have beens and should have beens. You get stuck at the moment with the idea of moving forward unimaginable, even unbearable. You are still hung over from last night's arguments, the shouting and clamoring to stay together, to make things work, to just be happy. You don't want to move on because you think things could still work out. All it takes is one more chance. You don't want to move on because you fear that moving on would mean disposing of all the memories you have left of the other. You fear that moving on would mean, everything's okay now and that maybe you already found someone else more worthy of your time, and effort. (If not, you can only but hope that someday, your paths will cross again.) It is scary because you think moving on completely disregards every bit of attachment you've formed with the other. And that it's all about forgetting. Forgive and forget, they say.

In my case, the someone isn't a person. It's a something. It's not a who but a what and when. And where. I just faxed my transcript and IELTS results to TFAS tonight; mailed the original this afternoon. The way things are going, it's like I've already moved on and decided that this is THE path. Neither the path of med nor of law but rather that of uncertainty. I couldn't see specifically what I'll be doing in 5 or 10 years' time if I'm able to pursue and accomplish the current plan. I don't even have the slightest clue what the world will throw at me by then. (The problem of indecisiveness caused by having an abundant supply of wants and aspirations is just as bad as the problem of indeciveness caused by the absence of such wants and aspirations.) What matters now, actually, is that I begin to follow A path, despite the surrounding uncertainties.

I put the IELTS results sheet along with the other documents I faxed earlier back into the huge yellow envelope containing my UK mats. For a long time, the envelope just served as an additional ornament to the already cluttered room. It just sat there on one side. Days passed without it getting noticed. But tonight, the 'ornament' turned into the envelope of what ifs, could have beens and should have beens. In a way, I was the same hopeful ex-boyfriend, thinking that as I pursue some other plan in some other place, UK and I would someday meet again*. Someday, not anytime soon. But I was kidding myself, I guess. I am still hung up on everything that transpired; still strongly wondering, what if.

I am like the ex-boyfriend- stuck at the moment, lingering on the possibilities, and too chicken to move on. I fear for the same reasons. I fear that if I move on, I would completely forget about this and find satisfaction in my non-UK adventures. (Forget UK!) I don't want to move on. I wouldn't like to think that everything's ok now; I take that to mean defeat. Actually, like him, all I know is I still want her, badly. But the uncertainty surrounding the unfolding of events leaves me with no other option but to wait, just that, eagerly hoping that one day, we would finally be back together. No need to succumb to the complete post-breakup oblivion of the heartache.


*I know, I myself didn't think I would be writing about this again, much more write about this creatively