Of Unsolicited Heartaches
My Great Love,
Yes, I call you Great Love now. From First College Crush to Great Crush to Great Love, your participation in my life has gotten so far it has probably reached its ultimatum. And yes, I am writing to and about you again. It seems like I will never run out of things to say to you, that I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you and resist myself from writing about it. It seems like I will always write something about you, that you will forever be part of this little personal blog. For almost four years you have been sporadically (or perhaps
not sporadically) sprouting in my every post. I will forever write about you.
I will forever have this feeling for you. I have come into the conclusion that you’ll eternally be the heartache I will never forget and get over. Maybe I’ll tell my future grandchildren about you, that guy who gave Granny Faye her first real heartbreak. Yes, I must say you are officially the very first person I fell in love with. And yes, I know I’ve been into relationships in the past years (back when my hormones wouldn’t stop jumping inside me), but I realized that these boys I’ve held hands with or even my first kiss wouldn’t count as love. I was young; I was looking for an adventure; I was scared of commitment; I didn’t want to be serious when it comes to love. I know it wasn’t love because it didn’t feel that way. I couldn’t even utter the three precious words. I wasn’t in love with them. I liked them, but it didn’t feel like love. Maybe those relationships weren’t love at all – maybe they were just
hook ups (without sexual contact, of course).
I wasn’t in love with them. It’s safe to say that I’ve never been in love before… and then,
bam, you came.
It took me more than three long years to finally admit that I’m in love with you. I am. I am crazy for you. I want to hug you, hold your hand, read books with you, listen to Paramore with you. I must admit that it was hard to settle with the fact that you’ve dug deep enough to have a place in my heart. You have to understand that it was scary: unreciprocated feelings are scary, the constant ache of missing you is scary, the possibility of the biggest heartbreak ever is scary. But, crap, I’ve seen enough movies to know that dodging fears wouldn’t get us anywhere. So then I finally admitted that I’m in love with you.
I love you, Great Love. You don’t know this and maybe I like it to be a secret first. I’m not ready for you to know it yet because I don’t want to ruin our very unstable friendship. I love you enough to wait, to dig my way into your heart until I deserve my rightful place, to fix my life first before letting someone new be part of it. I’m not actually expecting for us to be together anytime now. I know we’re both busy preparing for our future careers, but I’m not losing hope that a spark would materialize between us. Someday, in some way, I know we’ll find each other again.
Heck, maybe we wouldn’t
actually be together. Maybe after so many years we’d bump into each other in our old-person-snail-pace, and we’d talk about our lives with our own families. But I like to hold on to the faith that someday, we would share a mutual feeling (other than our love for Hayley Williams and Fall Out Boy). I’m not expecting for a feeling so epic that’ll make Jack and Rose [of
Titanic] make a run for their money. I just want something
real to
connect the two of us. If ultimately fate wouldn’t allow us to grow old together, at least we both know that there was a “could-have-been”. That’s what I want. A little
could-have-been we could reminisce. But for now, I’m contented with loving you virtually from a distance. I can be happy with our little, once-in-a-blue-moon long conversations.
Waiting for you and for the right moment gives me heartaches, but trust me, I’m kind of masochistic.
Always,
Your Great Lover (sounds creepy, isn’t it?)
PS: Happy late Valentine’s Day to you, too.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Of Unsolicited Heartaches
My Great Love,
Yes, I call you Great Love now. From First College Crush to Great Crush to Great Love, your participation in my life has gotten so far it has probably reached its ultimatum. And yes, I am writing to and about you again. It seems like I will never run out of things to say to you, that I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you and resist myself from writing about it. It seems like I will always write something about you, that you will forever be part of this little personal blog. For almost four years you have been sporadically (or perhaps
not sporadically) sprouting in my every post. I will forever write about you.
I will forever have this feeling for you. I have come into the conclusion that you’ll eternally be the heartache I will never forget and get over. Maybe I’ll tell my future grandchildren about you, that guy who gave Granny Faye her first real heartbreak. Yes, I must say you are officially the very first person I fell in love with. And yes, I know I’ve been into relationships in the past years (back when my hormones wouldn’t stop jumping inside me), but I realized that these boys I’ve held hands with or even my first kiss wouldn’t count as love. I was young; I was looking for an adventure; I was scared of commitment; I didn’t want to be serious when it comes to love. I know it wasn’t love because it didn’t feel that way. I couldn’t even utter the three precious words. I wasn’t in love with them. I liked them, but it didn’t feel like love. Maybe those relationships weren’t love at all – maybe they were just
hook ups (without sexual contact, of course).
I wasn’t in love with them. It’s safe to say that I’ve never been in love before… and then,
bam, you came.
It took me more than three long years to finally admit that I’m in love with you. I am. I am crazy for you. I want to hug you, hold your hand, read books with you, listen to Paramore with you. I must admit that it was hard to settle with the fact that you’ve dug deep enough to have a place in my heart. You have to understand that it was scary: unreciprocated feelings are scary, the constant ache of missing you is scary, the possibility of the biggest heartbreak ever is scary. But, crap, I’ve seen enough movies to know that dodging fears wouldn’t get us anywhere. So then I finally admitted that I’m in love with you.
I love you, Great Love. You don’t know this and maybe I like it to be a secret first. I’m not ready for you to know it yet because I don’t want to ruin our very unstable friendship. I love you enough to wait, to dig my way into your heart until I deserve my rightful place, to fix my life first before letting someone new be part of it. I’m not actually expecting for us to be together anytime now. I know we’re both busy preparing for our future careers, but I’m not losing hope that a spark would materialize between us. Someday, in some way, I know we’ll find each other again.
Heck, maybe we wouldn’t
actually be together. Maybe after so many years we’d bump into each other in our old-person-snail-pace, and we’d talk about our lives with our own families. But I like to hold on to the faith that someday, we would share a mutual feeling (other than our love for Hayley Williams and Fall Out Boy). I’m not expecting for a feeling so epic that’ll make Jack and Rose [of
Titanic] make a run for their money. I just want something
real to
connect the two of us. If ultimately fate wouldn’t allow us to grow old together, at least we both know that there was a “could-have-been”. That’s what I want. A little
could-have-been we could reminisce. But for now, I’m contented with loving you virtually from a distance. I can be happy with our little, once-in-a-blue-moon long conversations.
Waiting for you and for the right moment gives me heartaches, but trust me, I’m kind of masochistic.
Always,
Your Great Lover (sounds creepy, isn’t it?)
PS: Happy late Valentine’s Day to you, too.
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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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