Halted Descent
Friday, June 08, 2012 @ 3:33 PM | 0 comment(s)

“I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.”
© Charlyne Yi, Paper Heart


Paper Heart (directed by Nicholas Jasenovec) is one of the many movies I’ve seen online this past month, a month which is supposedly called “Happy Summer” but became just “Boring Bummer” to me. I came upon this movie, which isn’t really mainstream because it was originally produced for Sundance Film Festival (which I think means it’s an indigenous film), because I fell in love with the geeky and dorky Michael Cera and had a summer goal of watching every film he starred in, be it a box office, an indie or a flop.

Paper Heart is a documentary movie starring Charlyne Yi as the “host”, Jake M. Johnson (whom I also adore) as the “director/producer” and Michael Cera as… umm, Michael Cera, Charlyne’s love interest. The documentary is composed of different stories from different people with only one element that keeps them figuratively connected to each other: love. Charlyne decides to make love as the subject of this docu-film, because, as far as she knows, she doesn’t believe in and hasn’t fallen in love yet.


But tada! This entry isn’t a movie review (because you all know how crappy I make them). I decided to incorporate this movie in this post because of the aforementioned quote. I love this quote because I can relate to it so bad in this chapter of my consistently distraught life. “I know I’m not in love right now” – yes, I am exactly that line.


You may ask what brought me into writing about my insipid relationship status again. It was because of my best friend. One Facebook moment, he told me (through instant messaging) that he worries about me because I don’t seem to be in love or inspired or something. He worries that my hopeless and constant fangirling over celebrities and fictional characters will leave me hopelessly and constantly fangirling over people who seem to be either impossible to attain or impossible to exist, that it will ultimately leave me depressed and forever alone… and still a fangirl. I find all of it funny. Not that I don’t give a damn about what my best friend has to say because I do, but it’s just… umm… what the hell?

It made me wonder… should I fall in love this moment, fall in love again? Have I set my priorities straight yet? Do I even like someone? Does someone even like me? Do I have to tell Mom? Am I even ready? Is my heart ready? Is my psych ready?

It’s been three years since I’ve last dated someone. When I was in high school, I always had a boyfriend or a “mutual understanding partner” or a flirting partner. Nope, I wasn’t a hormone-driven, high school bitch with the longest list of boys in tow. Nope, I didn’t have guys lining outside waiting for my “yes” with fucking flowers on one hand and fucking chocolates on the other. What the fuck, that never happened to me (thank goodness!). I always had some guy because, I don’t know, I >liked falling in love. I liked the feeling of it. I liked the giddiness and tingling nerves and never-ending electricity. They told me I looked better and had a happier disposition when I was in love. So I was. After my last relationship, I didn’t care about how I looked or how my disposition was. It wasn’t that I had a hard time moving on – screw that. Love just dropped down to the lower part of my priorities.


It occurred to me that I had my own share of love and relationships and kisses already, enough to complete the cycle of successfully making a naïve tween to a worldly teen. I’ve had enough for now. It’s time for me to resurface before I drown in this endless sea of love and butterflies and whatever-cute-insect-there-is, a sea with an uncontrollable torrent, a sea where a man can lose navigation and become lost and confused and eventually heartbroken. It’s time to have a break and press pause the abnormal heart rate. It’s time to draw the lovesick curtain and look at the bigger picture. It’s time to search for the deeper meaning of love other than kissing someone passionately and scribbling shipment nicknames at the back of every notebook, believing that these nicknames would last “4ever”. It’s time to realize that there’s more to life than just being with someone romantically.

It’s time to have a more meaningful existence… even without the romantic company someone as special and as perfect as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.


I told my best friend that I can be happy even without a guy. I assured him that even if I’m literally falling for Sam Concepcion and Colton Dixon and that I’m hopelessly wishing to pull the sexy Patch Cipriano out of the Hush, Hush pages, I will not end as a forever alone, loveless, hormone-driven, fangirling female. I swear I will not. I told him to stop fidgeting and worrying about my love life and the history it’s making, because I don’t give a fuck so he shouldn’t. I will have my time again. At the moment I’m just contented at studying, reading, blogging and flirting virtually with somebody who I’m not sure is also flirting or wants to flirt back. (Guys! It’s not what you think! I’m not registered to a dating website or anything as pathetic. Oh, Christ. I know this guy personally and I like him so much it’s retarded. I’m just extra sweet when it comes to him.) I’m contented with just liking someone and guarding my feelings to make sure I don’t walk far enough to step inside the scary and pretty region of love.


“But that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.” I know I will fall in love again, in the right time, with the right guy. And when that moment comes, I want it to be a peaceful, long and happy descent.

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