Friday, December 06, 2013


Crooning on my STEREO:Crack the Shutters by Snow Patrol

After so many weeks of trying, I sat by my computer, trying to think of how and what to write but i am unsure of where to start. Its funny that after one year, things went a full circle and forces you to make a decision: although one that is based on your heart and one that is based on your head. Either way, one does not agree with the other. 

Truth is, I was not able to let go. I am still struggling. As ridiculous as it sounds, my heart is falling apart. You would have thought that after so many years of failed relationships, high school rejections and unrequited love - the universe will be kind enough to give your heart a chance to fall in love and be loved in return. Equally.

As I learn, love is never simple. You love someone. Someone remotely loves you back. But then he gets bored. Or you get bored. And we stray. Or, one tries to manipulate the other by curbing you into a change. Then we lose ourselves in the name of love.

What can we do? We were never anything. Why worth all the tears when a man that I love could never love me in return? Our heads tells us to stop as this is illogical, but yet our hearts continues to grieve. But sometimes we grieve because we hope. 

We hope that perhaps a person might change. We hope that he might come home to us. We hope that we could go back to those happy days when we would lie on the sand and watch the stars in the sky without a care in the world.  We hold on to hope because it was happiness. 

Letting go of your happiness for another's happiness is perhaps the bravest act of love. But where does it leave us? The jilted ones are left behind, breathing within a bubble that once held many happy memories, but stagnant with time. The other moves on, oblivious of all your tears.

I must admit that many times I had hoped he would appear by my doorstep, with a bottle of wine and a movie drive. That was how we did it. Waking up beside him, with his arm cradling my neck, felt like the safest place. 

Maybe one day we will learn that everything had to happen the way it should leading us to a happier place. Perhaps we should not love too quickly as we could jeopardise happiness too soon. We will never know what life has in store for all of us. 

But all I know is that I love this person very much, I miss him dearly and that I may never meet someone as wonderful as him again. 

But what can you do? Could you make a decision based on your head at the expense of breaking your heart? 

How far can you run? 

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Letting Go

Crooning on my STEREO: Titanium by David Guetta 

 Letting go - I hate that phrase. It is a little obnoxious when you HAD something, and then having (or forced!) to drop it into the ocean. We associate this circumstance with loving someone or something, and then having to forsake it for the better of the other half.

In other words, selfless Love.

What the hell is that? Who buys that?

Straight to the point, I loved a boy. Boy didn't love me in return. He went to somebody else. My heart broke.


Boy loved me. I didn't love him. I left. His heart broke.

Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons, and in my uneventful life I had the pleasure of experiencing both ends of the sword within the span of 6 months. The latter circumstance is easier to deal with as I am not the one bawling my eyes out. However the guilt of not being able to reciprocate a good person's feelings also has devastating effects on my psyche. I feel pretty bad.

There is nothing more lame than to carry that guilt onto the next person you meet. Naturally we tend to carry burdens of the past onto the next relationship because we are so afraid of repeating the same mistakes.

Also we are shit scared of karma's vengeance: because I thought I had hurt someone so bad, the same crap was going to come back at me.

I met the man of my dreams (seriously!) sometime ago. He was perfect: hot, clever, funny, charming, sweet, gorgeous, and all the good stuff. Family and friends loved him. He thought I was THE ONE for him, so did I on the vice versa - but that momentary fairy tale didn't last long until he made a runner for my friend. Damn.

Obviously my heart broke. Even worse when you catch them in your closet together.

That shit you can never forget. 

So I did everything to let go of the heartache - I did my nails, went shopping, overhauled myself, waxed my legs and all that shallow beautifying. I even went to a sharman who charged me 300 Euros during a session where I just slept and did nothing.

Sadly being the best looking person I can be can never replace that feeling of abandonment. 

I drummed the notion of martyrdom into my head that if I really loved this dude, I should be happy if he is happy. But theoretically, how can you delude yourself into happiness when your heart is sobbing with low self esteem because he chose to bang your friend over you?

I decided that the best way to move on, is not actually moving on, but to find a way back to myself in order to be happy again.

I am still working on it until today. Tough job.

I am back at 30!!!!

Crooning on my STEREO: Run by Amy McDonald
Knock knock, are you there?

You know what is really insane? It is because after two years of absence I am now reattempting to revive this blog. I was tempted to wipe off this old one and start anew, but after much deliberation (and mulling over old posts) this anthology (!!!) would be too precious to chuck away. Even when I am thirty!

And of course, I cannot remain anonymous - which means all my work clients, newfound friends, relatives, prospective business partners may stumble upon this cyber diary and have a great laugh.
They will read all about my insecure and hormonal complaints over stupid boys, mayonaise and expired socialist ideals. I hate to think that someone may have already printed a whole issue to shock me into embarassment on Christmas day!

 The core update: I have just turned 30, moved back to Munich, tied to wonderful job (still in TV), newly single, shed 6kg of puppy fat and deeply alcoholic. In a nutshell, it does not come across that I have progressed much since Amsterdam (apart from the single factor).

Speaking of being alone, I do have a cat named Tigger who was rescued from the streets of Singapore but she has a Swiss Passport. Ok, I am jumping over some fact but it feels darn good vomiting some random updates. This is the same feeling as meeting up with a childhood friend you have not seen in ages and babbling news in a non-chronological order. Blah blah blah they call it.

Off for my manicure now, and lots to fill you in later :)