Heartbreaking Nightmares

Today I fell down the rabbit hole. I haven’t been here in a long time, because see, for the most part, I thought I’m okay. Things happen, things end, things move on. That’s life, and I’ve long learned to accept that.

But the thing with burying something at the back of your mind does not guarantee that some random brain glitch will not dig it out while you’re asleep, and last night, that’s exactly what happened.

DAMN.

 

The circumstances that played out were barely logical. Even while I was inside that dream, I knew I was dreaming, and that nothing about it was real. The set-up, the conversation, the people in it — none of it would ever even remotely come together in real life. I could hear Lizzie McGuire playing in the background — the same series I was playing on my actual laptop in real-life because I never sleep with  no video on as a form of white noise. I was in a dream, I knew it, but the circumstances in that dream is an absolute nightmare that I really wish my brain did not go digging into.

But the thing is, even though I knew I was in a dream even as I was dreaming it — even though I knew that nothing like that even remotely happened, I still can’t get it out of my head and to confirm the dream state of it, I went down and fell into a rabbit hole that I avoided so much for the past three years.

I want so much to cry, but I told myself crying will not make it any less nightmarish or heartbreaking, and even if I can control what happens in my reality, I have no control over it in any way, shape, or form. I knew this much, and I want really to just be happy and accept what it was because it’s bound to happen sooner or later, but some things, especially those you wanted very badly for so long — some things will take a while to swallow.

I am not even coherent about what I’m ranting on and on here, and I wish I could explain without really explaining, but I can’t. Rabbit holes aside, I really kind of wish Gilderoy Lockhart is here to obliviate this one dream and one person from my mind.

And there, now you know what this is about.

Can I get my express train to Hogwarts now, please?

The Worst August in Recent Memory, and Somehow It Started With You

I had the worst August in my recent history, and I know this because August is traditionally my “Me Month” and it’s supposed to be my only “non-emo” month every year. This year, August is consistently awful, I’m just glad I finally saw it to an end.

Not that September will be much better (I already know this is gonna be bad, it marked some pretty important dates).

The (not) funny thing is that August started bad. The month started bad, and I’ve been avoiding going out just to let the bad mojo pass me by.

It all started with a dream. A dream I’m not supposed to have anymore. A dream that was supposed to be over and done with. A dream that felt so real, I didn’t realize it was a dream until the sun was almost up.

That dream was you.

You and me, cuddling like we used to do all the time.

I woke up, went back to sleep, had a dreamless sleep, woke up, went to sleep again, and woke up again. (I have this sleep-wake cycle every night.) It took waking up thrice before I realized that it wasn’t a memory or a real event at all, and you can guess what happened next: I spent the entire half hour crying my eyes out because it’s been almost a year, I’m not supposed to be sentimental about those things anymore.

But you know what they say about those emotions:

First loves are stubborn little pricks that never die.

At first I thought it was a fluke, just a dream that needed to get out there, but apparently, that started a messy, messy month that I just wanted to be over and done with.

I waited until the sun has totally risen before going back to sleep. The dream of you in it was the equivalent of nightmares these days. Of course, I was already nursing a really bad headache, but fortunately, it was a holiday, so I didn’t have to go to work looking like a zombie.

I wished I had work that day instead, no matter how stressful work has been.

I still had to leave by lunch because it was errands day: I had a lot of them to run, and a dinner date with friends to get to.

But after dinner, I lost my wallet, several thousands in cash, my phone, my only valid ID, and to top it all off, I have to be on a flight for a long weekend in two days, which meant that I needed all those things with me.

For the first time in a really long time, I was broke. Did I still want to go on a vacation after that? No, but I needed it. Going on a vacation with considerably less money than you should have had means less fun, but I got to see my friends, which more than made up for it.

The day after I lost my wallet, I only went to work for half a day to process all the stuff I lost (The unfortunate thing is that when someone steals your wallet, you have to spend more money to get back the things that you need — blocking your cards and replacing them, getting an affidavit of loss for your ID (mine was my passport, so yeah, double fck), and get your phone replaced) and I somehow ended up crying at the mall. Yes, I had a meltdown and started crying at the mall.

Tired, pissed, hungry and broke are all ingredients for a bad day.

And all I could think of for those two days was that I should have just spent the day dwelling on everything that went wrong between us instead of going about, because every single time you pop up, everything in my world turns topsy-turvy and even though I haven’t spoken to you in months, you still somehow make a mess out of my life, and I should have known there would be consequences if I pretend that you didn’t affect me because damn my heart got ripped apart. So if you please, will you please get out of my head because nothing about you made things better for me, and truth be told, you were everything that was wrong in my life, no matter how much you meant to me.

This month was another proof of that, and I only wrote about how it started.

And September? Do not even get me started: The month of the cause I have been actively fighting for especially after what happened to you. The month that was supposed to be our anniversary. Instead, it marked another kind of anniversary for me: One year of singlehood.

Of course, again, as always it’s all about you.

God forbid something about me will actually be about me for a change.

So please if I could just sleep, can people just Wake Me Up When September Ends?

A Twenty-Two-Year-Old Passionate Dreamer

I think I am one of the lucky ones who found her passions very early in life. From the time I was six, I have been passionate about the printed words — I always had this unquenchable thirst for reading. By the time I was eight, I knew that I wanted to write. I will be a published author one day.

Of course, unless you’re JK Rowling, you won’t make millions out of your stories, but that’s okay. I will have something else to do besides writing stories. I will be a journalist, so that I can travel the world. Readers are big dreamers, and they have seen a lot of the world,without leaving their rooms. One day, I will get to the see the places I’ve been inside the bound pages. Readers don’t have four corners, they have unlimited access to different worlds that not many can see or even remotely understand. So I will travel the world, no matter how long it will take.

Of course, some things change over the years, I found that journalism in my country isn’t all what it’s cracked up to be, so I will have to make a career out of something else. But one thing’s for sure, I am not giving up my love for words and for books. Despite the fact that today, I have my nose buried in texts than in stories.

tumblr_m0of2evQT61qkplsco1_500_large

I am a twenty-two-year-old passionate dreamer, and one day, I will reach my stars and galaxies.

Because real happy endings aren’t about the princes — they are about making your dreams come true.

Hopes and Dreams and All the Little Things

I was one of those girls, one of those who wanted to be a princess when she was a child, and I was one of those girls who dreamed of my happy ever after.

original.jpg (500×349)

Then, when I was eight, I said to myself, “I want to be a writer. I’m going to sell a best-seller someday.” I came to that conclusion because I loved reading for a grand total of three years, and I wanted to be like Francine Pascal, or Ann M. Martin, but better.

Back then, I also said to myself that I wanted to go to Paris, because I read a Sweet Valley Teens book, Mademoiselle Jessica, it was called. And I looked up Paris on the then VERY slow internet, and it was beautiful.

Today, I’m still stuck on that novel that was supposed to be my bestseller. The most I have, is a fifty-odd-plus pages of plots and stories, nowhere near as good as I wanted it to be. I still have no savings to go to the one city I wanted to be in more than I wanted to be a princess as a child. And I’m still nowhere near my happily ever after.

But it didn’t really matter, not yet, because I’m building my dreams around more things that I could even begin to imagine. Unconsciously, I began building my dreams around something, and someone.

Sometimes, things like that happen, and if everything turns out peachy, then it’s great. But what if, just what if, you built your dreams around something that you can lose, or someone who is willing to let you go? Or what if, your happily ever after isn’t the one that you imagined it to be?

You hope that one day things will turn out as they’re planned. And then you fight for everything to turn out the way you wanted them to. You build your life around them, and you fight to keep the life you want. It takes a lot of work, and a lot of drama, and it takes more than faith and trust, and pixie dust, but you fight.

And if things don’t turn out the way they should, you alter your dreams and make the most out of everything. The big and the grand can sometimes lead us to fall, but we keep reaching for the stars anyway, and maybe, just maybe, one day, we can reach them when we learn how to fly.