Goner
Sometimes I’m just so full of myself. This blog is the proof – and my never-stopping yapping about my hopeless one-sided romance with Great Crush.
Yes, we are talking about Great Crush again, for probably the thousandth time. I can’t help myself actually. Maybe my writing about him lessens the wretchedness I feel for him. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my narrating my feelings for him like I’m writing a cliché novel actually
worsens everything. I’m not sure. All I know is that I like him; I miss him; it feels weird; it feels amazing; it hurts; I want to see him; I feel like I’m a shit; I feel hopeful and hopeless; I feel like crying; he makes me smile; I’m so full of myself.
As you all know, this infatuation – the
greatest infatuation in my lifetime – has been haunting me for three years and three months already. There is just something about him that makes me want to hold on, refusing to let go, refusing to move on, agonizing myself over and over again. It’s cliché to say but he’s like a drug that I can’t relieve myself from. He’s a drug that gives me euphoria every time I feel like my life is anything but special. He’s a drug that makes me smile like a maniacal killer. I’m so addicted and dependent on this drug that any form of withdrawal from it will
ruin me. I tried different ways to forget him, to change my perspective towards him, to imprint in my mind that he’s nothing but a huge distraction and beautiful destruction. But look at where it got me!
I know that this is impossible, that hoping we’ll be something more than online, barely-there friends will never happen, that this feeling I have for him will never be reciprocated. But what is it about him that makes me continue hoping? What is it about his smile that makes me forget the shits I go through every time I think of him? What is it about our senseless nerd-outs that makes me want more, that makes me seek for these conversations every day, that anchors me to a better, flowers-with-butterflies disposition?
Do you think this is love? Is this called love already? Lately, every time I see him online, exchange words with him or just dig up my memories of him from my subconscious, I have this aching in my chest that I couldn’t explain. My chest hurts every
freakin’ time. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? If it is, it isn’t fun. Jealousy has also been becoming a problem lately. I get jealous every time I realize he’s too sweet with the opposite sex. I envy girls who have established concrete friendships/relationships with him – I want to have that! I get suspicious with pretty girls swarming around him. I’m acting like a
crazy person. I’m acting like a crazy ex-girlfriend who never actually had him. I’m acting like a crazy, obsessed girl flinging myself to him like he’s my prince charming saving me from the wicked witch.
I’m really unsure if this is love already. I hate to admit it, but it feels a lot like love. Just like before, I’m standing a few inches risky from falling into this abyss of crazy euphoria with crazy difficult emotions, with my one foot dangling. Only a little push forward and I am a
goner. I’ve been a goner anyway, ever since he first smiled at me, with those beautiful eyes of his. My being a lost cause worsened when I learned he could sing, ticking off another dream guy quality on my list. This is kind of crazy, but then again, there’s nothing normal in this world: Math is crazy; Chemistry is crazy; book characters are crazy; fangirling is crazy. If this is love, then it is. Let it be. Let’s be crazy and in love together.
If only every memory, every pain succumbed to, every word exchanged, every jealousy, every tear shed were the answer…
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Goner
Sometimes I’m just so full of myself. This blog is the proof – and my never-stopping yapping about my hopeless one-sided romance with Great Crush.
Yes, we are talking about Great Crush again, for probably the thousandth time. I can’t help myself actually. Maybe my writing about him lessens the wretchedness I feel for him. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my narrating my feelings for him like I’m writing a cliché novel actually
worsens everything. I’m not sure. All I know is that I like him; I miss him; it feels weird; it feels amazing; it hurts; I want to see him; I feel like I’m a shit; I feel hopeful and hopeless; I feel like crying; he makes me smile; I’m so full of myself.
As you all know, this infatuation – the
greatest infatuation in my lifetime – has been haunting me for three years and three months already. There is just something about him that makes me want to hold on, refusing to let go, refusing to move on, agonizing myself over and over again. It’s cliché to say but he’s like a drug that I can’t relieve myself from. He’s a drug that gives me euphoria every time I feel like my life is anything but special. He’s a drug that makes me smile like a maniacal killer. I’m so addicted and dependent on this drug that any form of withdrawal from it will
ruin me. I tried different ways to forget him, to change my perspective towards him, to imprint in my mind that he’s nothing but a huge distraction and beautiful destruction. But look at where it got me!
I know that this is impossible, that hoping we’ll be something more than online, barely-there friends will never happen, that this feeling I have for him will never be reciprocated. But what is it about him that makes me continue hoping? What is it about his smile that makes me forget the shits I go through every time I think of him? What is it about our senseless nerd-outs that makes me want more, that makes me seek for these conversations every day, that anchors me to a better, flowers-with-butterflies disposition?
Do you think this is love? Is this called love already? Lately, every time I see him online, exchange words with him or just dig up my memories of him from my subconscious, I have this aching in my chest that I couldn’t explain. My chest hurts every
freakin’ time. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? If it is, it isn’t fun. Jealousy has also been becoming a problem lately. I get jealous every time I realize he’s too sweet with the opposite sex. I envy girls who have established concrete friendships/relationships with him – I want to have that! I get suspicious with pretty girls swarming around him. I’m acting like a
crazy person. I’m acting like a crazy ex-girlfriend who never actually had him. I’m acting like a crazy, obsessed girl flinging myself to him like he’s my prince charming saving me from the wicked witch.
I’m really unsure if this is love already. I hate to admit it, but it feels a lot like love. Just like before, I’m standing a few inches risky from falling into this abyss of crazy euphoria with crazy difficult emotions, with my one foot dangling. Only a little push forward and I am a
goner. I’ve been a goner anyway, ever since he first smiled at me, with those beautiful eyes of his. My being a lost cause worsened when I learned he could sing, ticking off another dream guy quality on my list. This is kind of crazy, but then again, there’s nothing normal in this world: Math is crazy; Chemistry is crazy; book characters are crazy; fangirling is crazy. If this is love, then it is. Let it be. Let’s be crazy and in love together.
If only every memory, every pain succumbed to, every word exchanged, every jealousy, every tear shed were the answer…
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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