I should probably change the name of this blog to "Diaries of a depressed fifteen-year-old girl" since all the posts I make nowadays are depressing. Hopefully I'll get back to writing the good old funny posts soon, but if not, indulge your inner depressed teenage girl.
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And that was when it hit him.. His old wounds hadn't healed and probably never would.
Let's back up a little bit and put this in context, shall we?
It was a good day. He was happy. It was one of those few occasions when he didn't feel like wallowing in self-pity or spending quality time with his laptop at home. He didn't even know why he was depressed, but he knew that he just was.. He always was. That wasn't going to stop him today, though, because he decided to go out and have fun with his friends.
He went out with a friend for a bite to eat, and they spent some good time reminiscing and talking about the good old days.. His friend was the sort of friend who earns the right to be in one's life, and is a valuable addition to it. He was one of those friends who are more like family than they are friends. His company was a welcome change from the usual depressing company of his own thoughts in the confines of his distressed brain.
Before he knew it, he was having fun and laughing and enjoying himself. The company of friends who know you more than you know yourself does that to people sometimes. Eventually, some common friends came over to hang out with them. It was a nice, typical, boring day with no complications and no reasons for his overworked brain to over-analyse anything or to put in more than the 5% of his brain power necessary to crack the odd joke or pretend to listen to someone while they drivelled on and on.
Nice little stress-free outing with friends, what could go wrong?
He noticed a new face in the group that he hadn't seen before. She was pretty. Not the usual sort of angular, bony pretty that has become so popular through media. No, the comfortable, full face that makes you feel more at home than any cat-faced supermodel. She had full lips and wavy brown hair that descended in ringlets to her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of the room, sometimes deep hazel, sometimes bright green, sometimes even yellow. Shy eyes. Mysterious eyes. Interesting eyes. She was instantly sexy to him. Her face also seemed to remind him of someone, but he couldn't quite figure out who.
She seemed like an interesting person, so he started talking to her. She was nice, one of those people that remind you of buttercup cupcakes with a rainbow frosting and puppies and unicorns. The sort of person who wouldn't even hurt one of those thrice-damned mosquitos that pick the eve of an important exam or presentation to fly right into your ears and choose annoying places such as joints to bite you in. She was a very attentive audience; she laughed at his jokes, she groaned sympathetically or smiled in all the right places, and was even doing that girly thing where she twirls her hair around playfully which he found strangely attractive.
He was hooked. He flashed back to his teens, when the mere sight of a crush would make him blush and forget his alphabet, albeit his sense of humour. It was weird, he hadn't felt like that in years. What he thought was lost to him surfaced again, and he couldn't tell why or how. Had he seen her before? He was pretty sure it was the first time he'd seen her. Why was she bringing this out in him? It made no sense. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted with her, but he knew he wanted something. He hadn't even bothered to try to get close to any girl for a very long time, but he thought he'd give it a shot.
Time flew quickly, and he found himself getting more and more comfortable staring into the unfathomable depths of her eyes. They spoke volumes; of love lost and lessons learned. Of lean times and prosperous times. Of good experiences and bad. How she held his eye contact also told him that she wasn't one to trifle with; it was very hard to meet his gaze because his cold blue eyes usually discomforted people.. but not her. It also spoke of confidence. It's amazing how much a person's eyes can tell you about them without even meaning to.
Why were her eyes so captivating? Why were alarm bells going off in his head? The odd shine in her eyes reminded him of someone, warned him to stay away, but it was too late for that.. he was in too deep now. Despite the warnings his brain kept throwing at him, he was still in that cosy, fluffy, emotional teenage bubble she'd unkowingly put him in. He didn't stand a chance.
After what seemed like a very short time, he had to go to the bathroom. He excused himself, went to the bathroom and made a phone call on his way back.
From a long distance away, he could see her flirting with a guy. This was a girl he'd only just met, so it shouldn't really bother him that she was talking to another guy. It's not like he'd introduced her to his parents and settled for a June wedding, right?
So why did it feel so much like a stab to the heart?
Why the overreaction? She was perfectly entitled to speak to anyone she wanted. Why did he feel so betrayed? What was it about her? She was laughing. Her laugh was familiar. Everything about her was familiar.WHERE HAD HE SEEN HER BEFORE?
Then her head shifted, and the light hit her eyes and hair at a different angle. And he knew. Why had it taken him so long to realize the resemblance between her and his first girlfriend? They even had the same name. the fact that he didn't see the similarities the moment he laid eyes on the girl was a testament to his hatred of his ex-girlfriend and his determination to suppress any memories of her..
His ex-girlfriend.
His first girlfriend who cheated on him. His first girlfriend who broke his heart so long ago. His first girlfriend who he thought he'd shut out of his life, the same girlfriend who made him cynical about the concept of love. The same girlfriend who made him think he'd never find love again.
He suddenly wanted to hug and choke her.
He had to get the hell out of there. The sooner the better.
He turned around, went back outside, and started pacing in circles. He tried to close the door that the girl had unintentionally blown off its hinges. He tried to use logic, to convince himself that he was over her, to assure himself that this was just a minor lapse and that he'd be back to being the cold, calculating realist he had taught himself to be.. But it was no use.
And that was when it hit him.. His old wounds hadn't healed and probably never would.
He didn't know how he felt about this girl, but he sure as hell wasn't over his ex-girlfriend. It didn't change anything; he still wasn't going to call her, he was never going to forgive her and would probably always love her and hate her intensely and simultaneously. But now he had to admit it to himself, and admit that he had an open wound that three years of bandaging hadn't helped to heal. He had to admit that he would never love again, and if he did, he wouldn't love her like he loved his first girlfriend. He had to admit to himself that the reason why he was always depressed was that he couldn't find anyone who could fill the hole his first love had left, or live up to his insane expectations which were a direct result of his building up his first girlfriend to an undeserved, almost angel-like status.
He had to admit to himself that his self-loathing, his self-pity, his need to sabotage himself and nearly everything else that was wrong with him could be traced back to this evil witch who scarred him for life.
She didn't break something IN him..
She broke HIM.
And that was the sad truth of it all.
*********************************************************************************
And that was when it hit him.. His old wounds hadn't healed and probably never would.
Let's back up a little bit and put this in context, shall we?
It was a good day. He was happy. It was one of those few occasions when he didn't feel like wallowing in self-pity or spending quality time with his laptop at home. He didn't even know why he was depressed, but he knew that he just was.. He always was. That wasn't going to stop him today, though, because he decided to go out and have fun with his friends.
He went out with a friend for a bite to eat, and they spent some good time reminiscing and talking about the good old days.. His friend was the sort of friend who earns the right to be in one's life, and is a valuable addition to it. He was one of those friends who are more like family than they are friends. His company was a welcome change from the usual depressing company of his own thoughts in the confines of his distressed brain.
Before he knew it, he was having fun and laughing and enjoying himself. The company of friends who know you more than you know yourself does that to people sometimes. Eventually, some common friends came over to hang out with them. It was a nice, typical, boring day with no complications and no reasons for his overworked brain to over-analyse anything or to put in more than the 5% of his brain power necessary to crack the odd joke or pretend to listen to someone while they drivelled on and on.
Nice little stress-free outing with friends, what could go wrong?
He noticed a new face in the group that he hadn't seen before. She was pretty. Not the usual sort of angular, bony pretty that has become so popular through media. No, the comfortable, full face that makes you feel more at home than any cat-faced supermodel. She had full lips and wavy brown hair that descended in ringlets to her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of the room, sometimes deep hazel, sometimes bright green, sometimes even yellow. Shy eyes. Mysterious eyes. Interesting eyes. She was instantly sexy to him. Her face also seemed to remind him of someone, but he couldn't quite figure out who.
She seemed like an interesting person, so he started talking to her. She was nice, one of those people that remind you of buttercup cupcakes with a rainbow frosting and puppies and unicorns. The sort of person who wouldn't even hurt one of those thrice-damned mosquitos that pick the eve of an important exam or presentation to fly right into your ears and choose annoying places such as joints to bite you in. She was a very attentive audience; she laughed at his jokes, she groaned sympathetically or smiled in all the right places, and was even doing that girly thing where she twirls her hair around playfully which he found strangely attractive.
He was hooked. He flashed back to his teens, when the mere sight of a crush would make him blush and forget his alphabet, albeit his sense of humour. It was weird, he hadn't felt like that in years. What he thought was lost to him surfaced again, and he couldn't tell why or how. Had he seen her before? He was pretty sure it was the first time he'd seen her. Why was she bringing this out in him? It made no sense. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted with her, but he knew he wanted something. He hadn't even bothered to try to get close to any girl for a very long time, but he thought he'd give it a shot.
Time flew quickly, and he found himself getting more and more comfortable staring into the unfathomable depths of her eyes. They spoke volumes; of love lost and lessons learned. Of lean times and prosperous times. Of good experiences and bad. How she held his eye contact also told him that she wasn't one to trifle with; it was very hard to meet his gaze because his cold blue eyes usually discomforted people.. but not her. It also spoke of confidence. It's amazing how much a person's eyes can tell you about them without even meaning to.
Why were her eyes so captivating? Why were alarm bells going off in his head? The odd shine in her eyes reminded him of someone, warned him to stay away, but it was too late for that.. he was in too deep now. Despite the warnings his brain kept throwing at him, he was still in that cosy, fluffy, emotional teenage bubble she'd unkowingly put him in. He didn't stand a chance.
After what seemed like a very short time, he had to go to the bathroom. He excused himself, went to the bathroom and made a phone call on his way back.
From a long distance away, he could see her flirting with a guy. This was a girl he'd only just met, so it shouldn't really bother him that she was talking to another guy. It's not like he'd introduced her to his parents and settled for a June wedding, right?
So why did it feel so much like a stab to the heart?
Why the overreaction? She was perfectly entitled to speak to anyone she wanted. Why did he feel so betrayed? What was it about her? She was laughing. Her laugh was familiar. Everything about her was familiar.WHERE HAD HE SEEN HER BEFORE?
Then her head shifted, and the light hit her eyes and hair at a different angle. And he knew. Why had it taken him so long to realize the resemblance between her and his first girlfriend? They even had the same name. the fact that he didn't see the similarities the moment he laid eyes on the girl was a testament to his hatred of his ex-girlfriend and his determination to suppress any memories of her..
His ex-girlfriend.
His first girlfriend who cheated on him. His first girlfriend who broke his heart so long ago. His first girlfriend who he thought he'd shut out of his life, the same girlfriend who made him cynical about the concept of love. The same girlfriend who made him think he'd never find love again.
He suddenly wanted to hug and choke her.
He had to get the hell out of there. The sooner the better.
He turned around, went back outside, and started pacing in circles. He tried to close the door that the girl had unintentionally blown off its hinges. He tried to use logic, to convince himself that he was over her, to assure himself that this was just a minor lapse and that he'd be back to being the cold, calculating realist he had taught himself to be.. But it was no use.
And that was when it hit him.. His old wounds hadn't healed and probably never would.
He didn't know how he felt about this girl, but he sure as hell wasn't over his ex-girlfriend. It didn't change anything; he still wasn't going to call her, he was never going to forgive her and would probably always love her and hate her intensely and simultaneously. But now he had to admit it to himself, and admit that he had an open wound that three years of bandaging hadn't helped to heal. He had to admit that he would never love again, and if he did, he wouldn't love her like he loved his first girlfriend. He had to admit to himself that the reason why he was always depressed was that he couldn't find anyone who could fill the hole his first love had left, or live up to his insane expectations which were a direct result of his building up his first girlfriend to an undeserved, almost angel-like status.
He had to admit to himself that his self-loathing, his self-pity, his need to sabotage himself and nearly everything else that was wrong with him could be traced back to this evil witch who scarred him for life.
She didn't break something IN him..
She broke HIM.
And that was the sad truth of it all.
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