Y’know, when it comes to writing, I really love melancholic themes. There’s just something about the arsenal of words at our disposal when it comes to telling a sad story. Do you describe sadness as the absence of joy, or joy as the absence of sadness? Not exactly the same thing, but one cannot be without the other.
Suddenly I think of my ex boyfriend, how we went through the entire process too quickly. Kinda the typical burned too bright too fast, in the end we burnt out. All these unsent messages, untyped texts, unwritten letters turned to ash. I could actually go on and on about how depressed I was, but I don’t really remember the feeling anymore. Maybe burning out quickly also allows for easier healing. The damage isn’t as deep as I thought it was. We don’t talk anymore, even though I sometimes want to just say hello and ask how he’s doing. I know better than to get myself involved in more drama (then again I made the mistake of lending him my earphones and I kinda want them back but hmm) NO BRYAN STOP IT HE’S DEAD TO YOU. But then I remember the days leading up to our officiation, the sort of mutual attraction and romantic and sexual tension between us. The chase.
Suddenly I think of the few guys I dated after I broke up with him. I was interested in a particular asshole that ended up wasting my time. Saying all sorts of things, and displaying his wants and wishes (none of them unreasonable so I went with them; I am quite the generous and self-sacrificial person). I just didn’t like how he burnt out so quickly. Going from being the one suggesting we date exclusively, and exactly a week later decided that we were going too fast and starting ghosting me. What a trainwreck HAHA. That one week kinda left somewhat of an impact on me, to be a better person to myself (and to not waste my time on self-absorbed assholes)
Suddenly I think of the times I used to pursue my college classmate, for almost the entirety of my diploma days. Two and a half years pining over this person that I now realise wasn’t worth the effort, but the effort was worth doing. There is something about the pursuing, the chase, that exhilarates me into doing things I’d normally be too shy or afraid of doing. I like how I was so frank and eager about all things him. The guy was an asshole, we argued quite a lot but we also got along really well most of the time. So much that I was confused by my own feelings.
And the list of things I spontaneously think of one after another goes on, but none of them really matter anymore. Not in the present, not in the future.
I think this one is different. I like different. I like this one.
I love it
when I discover the spark,
that makes me want to
go on the chase