Breathing On Icicles

I am breathing on icicles and I could barely feel my lungs as they expand on my chest, wanting to break free with the intense desperation of muffled screams contained in the battered walls of my heart. Indeed, I have waited in vain for the love that was never meant for me, and all I could do now is let go of this misery – of wanting him – of not wanting him – of just forgetting about him – but I can’t! His blurred image is perpetually in my head and how I was deceived of his love that I thought was so pure, but was disguised by hidden motives and cruel intentions. I can’t seem to let go, even if I try, because the hate that has generated in my heart consumes me, until I can no longer live without hating the one that I had loved the most. Love is a sick joke, once you think about it. And all I have left is this space that I try to fill in with the constant mental note that I’m doing fine without him, and that I’m happy with somebody else. It’s all in the mind, that’s what I have been trying to tell myself lately. But how come I’m breathing on icicles, now that it’s apparent that all the ice has melted? I could only sigh heavily as I desperately try to erase the memories. Is one year not enough? Will the torment go on and on? I thought that I had learned to let go, but I was wrong. This is another attempt to convince myself that I’m doing fine - spontaneous words typed in a surprising speed that would somehow flood the gates of my memory and would self-fulfill any prophecy about not having a scar at all. I wake up in the morning wanting to break free. The pain is no longer there, but the feeling of being deceived is far above palpable, it could be perceived even by the most inert of persons. How could a smart person like me, with an IQ of 130, be deceived by a guy whose IQ is lower than that of a moron? Love has done all this. Lust has made the obvious even blurrier. It wasn’t love. It was just a want – not a need. I was blinded by the mist that surrounds his mystery. I was blinded by the way he smoothly talked to me. He broke free, because he didn’t want anything to do with me, and I wasn’t able to accept that fact so I continued to ask why, and then he lied, not wanting to hurt me. But then he took advantage of the love that I have to offer. So he continued the lies, and I was blinded by the mist of the mystery behind the man – behind the king of lies. I was deceived because of the love I have for him, and now, all I want to do is to redeem myself and free my mind of this horrible memory. This kind of love makes you an imbecile, and now I’m bitterly biting on the icicles while I breathe shallow breaths hoping that some part of me will die and my battered heart will be born again after a year of suspended bereavement. I am breathing on icicles and I’m trying to get by. Subconsciously, I’ve been hypnotizing myself to forget, but in vain. Seven months and counting has been extended to a year and a half of counting sheep jumping over a fence. I am a prisoner of my own emotions, and the only way out is to escape through this maze of mind games and useless pondering. The answer is simple, but the process is hard. As the saying goes, easier said than done. There is nothing impossible. I can forget about him. Maybe in due time. But for how long? Maybe the reason why I can’t seem to get over is that I haven’t really forgiven him, and worse, I haven’t really forgiven myself for succumbing to his cunning. Maybe that’s what I have to learn. And I’m crawling for what it seems like an eternity, for an understanding of why I was beaten, and why I was fooled? I’m more angry now than sad. And as the ice melted, I came to a realization that he was never coming back. I was left not really alone, but bereft of anymore emotions that I could possibly give to that better substitute just around the corner. I was robbed in my face because I let him. And I bet he’s laughing out loud somewhere. I may have been renounced, but I’m here to live for another day. He may have won now, but that will be the end of him. Maybe through the power of suggestion, he might just commit suicide. The ice has melted and I am breathing on icicles as they slowly melt with the intensity of my burning madness. I will have the last laugh. I will survive this game that he started. I will successfully forget about him and get on with my life, while he on the other hand, could just burn in hell.