Damn, Love
Here I am again: writing about Great Love, or more like I-wanna-forget-about Great Love. Damn, I am not going anywhere with this. Trust me, I’m doing my
hardest to leave him in the past and get over something I never even had. But I just can’t seem to do it. I miss him every day; I think about him all the time. Every time I see something awesome, I’d be like, “I wonder what he’d think of this.” He’s always in the equation. I even didn’t blog for almost two months because all I can think of writing about is him. But now here I am, surrendering to the whims of my heart. Fuck this.
I haven’t talked to him ever since that eventful short meeting that he probably doesn’t remember. I deleted our thread in my phone; I haven’t said a word to him online. Okay, maybe I
do leave a comment on his Instagram posts once a month, but that’s how far I got. And it pains me. I’m damn proud of my self-control but it
pains me. I’m bursting of things I wanna say to him. I wanna tell him that I am happy for his achievements lately and ask him how his trip to Washington went. I wanna recommend new music to him because that’s what we do. I wanna tell him to see
The Maze Runner movie because I know he’ll like it. I am
dying to tell him that I saw The Summer Set in person even if my Bazooka Rocks dream went unfulfilled, that the members are all good-looking and that it was one of the awesomest days of my life; I’m sure he’d say that he’s happy for me and we’d go on talking about more bands. I wanna share stories about school and books and music and Japan and everything else that we can geek out over. I want us to have those conversations again, those conversations that take forever to end and that don’t make sense to anyone else but the both of us. I want to have that friendship again, but because of my feelings and my decision, I’m losing that connection to him. He doesn’t and maybe will never know about it. It’s very hard: it’s like trying to forget someone without taking his photo down the wall or the nightstand. It’s like trying to erase someone from your memory when every little thing reminds you of him. We both are losing this friendship formed over innocent love for Harry Potter; the only difference is that I know about it and it hurts, and he’s unaware so he’s spared from the pain. Fuck, I don’t even think he’d care if I just vanish from his life.
That’s it, right? No matter what I do, no matter what I feel, in the end, it’s only me who’d be affected. I’d be the only one who’d feel the pain. He doesn’t care. It’s all one sided. It’s so screwed up. I don’t think he cares about me at all; I can’t feel it. I’m giving him the semi-silent treatment with the hope that he’d miss me. Well, fuck that plan. All the signs are pointing to this: we are just friends.
I know it’s shallow and I don’t have the right, but sometimes I just want him to notice me first, to make the move first. I haven’t told him about The Summer Set because I want him to discover about it. I posted tons of photos online and I basically can’t stop raving about them, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I want him to know about my lucky day and ask me how it went. But so far, nothing at all. It’s a blow to my heart. I want him to know about it because he has become part of it in a way. But maybe he’s busy; he has more things to worry about and other people to talk to, people who occupy more space in his life. Huh, maybe I’m just a speck of dust in his life, a speck he wouldn’t even see if he wouldn’t bother looking. I’m vying for his attention as if I have the right; I’m jealous of others as if I’m someone special; I’m asking for a little amount of his time as if I’m a beggar and he hogs the food. And it’s not his fault if he’s stronger and has bigger hands [to carry all the food] (what is this metaphor).
Loving him is painful, I must admit. Having feelings for someone who wouldn’t reciprocate it is a recipe for disaster. Any sane and rational person would forget and move on, but the problem is I
can’t forget and move on. Maybe that means I’m insane and irrational. My love for him is so big that I can’t take it; it’s so big it makes my heart ache; it’s so big it tears me apart. I cannot unlove him to save my life. What should I do? Meet other guys? Replacing him with someone new seems like a good idea, but the problem is I’m
not even interested. I don’t think some other guy, this time, can dig deep enough to take his place in my heart (and trust me, Great Love’s hole is as deep as a well). I’m not ready to forget him yet because I don’t want to. Maybe someday; I’m sure someday I’d wake up without feeling like someone’s punching my heart, without missing him and thinking about him every single minute. Gosh, these feelings will be the death of me.
I still love him. A lot. It’s weird because I’m still young, and now I’m talking like I jumped out of a sad Nicholas Sparks romance.
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Damn, Love
Here I am again: writing about Great Love, or more like I-wanna-forget-about Great Love. Damn, I am not going anywhere with this. Trust me, I’m doing my
hardest to leave him in the past and get over something I never even had. But I just can’t seem to do it. I miss him every day; I think about him all the time. Every time I see something awesome, I’d be like, “I wonder what he’d think of this.” He’s always in the equation. I even didn’t blog for almost two months because all I can think of writing about is him. But now here I am, surrendering to the whims of my heart. Fuck this.
I haven’t talked to him ever since that eventful short meeting that he probably doesn’t remember. I deleted our thread in my phone; I haven’t said a word to him online. Okay, maybe I
do leave a comment on his Instagram posts once a month, but that’s how far I got. And it pains me. I’m damn proud of my self-control but it
pains me. I’m bursting of things I wanna say to him. I wanna tell him that I am happy for his achievements lately and ask him how his trip to Washington went. I wanna recommend new music to him because that’s what we do. I wanna tell him to see
The Maze Runner movie because I know he’ll like it. I am
dying to tell him that I saw The Summer Set in person even if my Bazooka Rocks dream went unfulfilled, that the members are all good-looking and that it was one of the awesomest days of my life; I’m sure he’d say that he’s happy for me and we’d go on talking about more bands. I wanna share stories about school and books and music and Japan and everything else that we can geek out over. I want us to have those conversations again, those conversations that take forever to end and that don’t make sense to anyone else but the both of us. I want to have that friendship again, but because of my feelings and my decision, I’m losing that connection to him. He doesn’t and maybe will never know about it. It’s very hard: it’s like trying to forget someone without taking his photo down the wall or the nightstand. It’s like trying to erase someone from your memory when every little thing reminds you of him. We both are losing this friendship formed over innocent love for Harry Potter; the only difference is that I know about it and it hurts, and he’s unaware so he’s spared from the pain. Fuck, I don’t even think he’d care if I just vanish from his life.
That’s it, right? No matter what I do, no matter what I feel, in the end, it’s only me who’d be affected. I’d be the only one who’d feel the pain. He doesn’t care. It’s all one sided. It’s so screwed up. I don’t think he cares about me at all; I can’t feel it. I’m giving him the semi-silent treatment with the hope that he’d miss me. Well, fuck that plan. All the signs are pointing to this: we are just friends.
I know it’s shallow and I don’t have the right, but sometimes I just want him to notice me first, to make the move first. I haven’t told him about The Summer Set because I want him to discover about it. I posted tons of photos online and I basically can’t stop raving about them, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I want him to know about my lucky day and ask me how it went. But so far, nothing at all. It’s a blow to my heart. I want him to know about it because he has become part of it in a way. But maybe he’s busy; he has more things to worry about and other people to talk to, people who occupy more space in his life. Huh, maybe I’m just a speck of dust in his life, a speck he wouldn’t even see if he wouldn’t bother looking. I’m vying for his attention as if I have the right; I’m jealous of others as if I’m someone special; I’m asking for a little amount of his time as if I’m a beggar and he hogs the food. And it’s not his fault if he’s stronger and has bigger hands [to carry all the food] (what is this metaphor).
Loving him is painful, I must admit. Having feelings for someone who wouldn’t reciprocate it is a recipe for disaster. Any sane and rational person would forget and move on, but the problem is I
can’t forget and move on. Maybe that means I’m insane and irrational. My love for him is so big that I can’t take it; it’s so big it makes my heart ache; it’s so big it tears me apart. I cannot unlove him to save my life. What should I do? Meet other guys? Replacing him with someone new seems like a good idea, but the problem is I’m
not even interested. I don’t think some other guy, this time, can dig deep enough to take his place in my heart (and trust me, Great Love’s hole is as deep as a well). I’m not ready to forget him yet because I don’t want to. Maybe someday; I’m sure someday I’d wake up without feeling like someone’s punching my heart, without missing him and thinking about him every single minute. Gosh, these feelings will be the death of me.
I still love him. A lot. It’s weird because I’m still young, and now I’m talking like I jumped out of a sad Nicholas Sparks romance.
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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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