Scourges and Wounds
Mood:  sad
Topic: luv thingy
Scourgings of a Wounded Heart

The only way to overcome one’s downfall is to rise up and move on. Cliché and resolution but self-contradictory. For no matter how hard I try to delve on different ways as to help myself cope with such disgrace, whatever I do, either I strive hard to move away from the situation, your traces always brings me back to you.
I am a man. And no matter how rational I am, the irrationality of this mundane world will always be there to pull me down and make me succumb to worldly pleasures that are in some ways burdensome. But these burdens, these yokes made me fully realize that I am only human. Poignant, perturbing, shattering, tormenting, scourging but true. Misery is all in this world and nothing more than that. All you have to do is to drown yourself into it. For the more you struggle against it, the more you resist, the more you fight and the more you asphyxiate away from it, you will only throttle yourself to death. Even if you triumph you are already vanquished for the scars and wounds will remain to remind you of your fall. There’s no returning, for even if there is, you’ll still carry it with you and you cannot take it away no matter what you do.
I was very very happy. As happy as what any word can represent and as happy as what description can be given. I was in heaven and as if time had stopped running. Since the day I met you I told myself that you are the one whom I will devote my whole life, my existence, my being. You gave breath into my soul, flesh into my body, and blood to pump into my heart. You’re my necromancer and I am your summoned corpse. You gave life into my world of unliving, you gave light into my world of darkness, you swept away the drought I into my world and made it fertile. Why does it have to be you? I just know you by name and nothing more than that. I do not even have any idea how you look like, what kind of family do you belong to, whether you’re an addict, a killer, a rapist, an opportunist, I don’t care. I will never ever care though this may be true. All I know is that I have learned to love you and accept whatever and whoever you are, for that is all that matters to me. And I have no regrets; never did I have any doubts about you even a single moment though you believed in me otherwise. You always have doubts, you always hurt me but I continued holding on because no matter what I do, I always find my way back to you.
Then came the time when we see each other face to face. You believed in me at last. We made promises for our future that you and I will share forever, no matter what odds. But the tomorrow that comes after, you left me, you left me alone, you left me on the verge of breaking down where everything in me are obstructed, devoured into ashes, those dreams, those promises and those words left unspoken, vanished, gone astray. I don’t know if you changed your mind, if you never really loved me or just because you have no choice but to let go for it is the right thing to do. You have to be in someone else’s arms, not mine.
You are all I have lived for. You’re the reason why I had been what I am, why I have been successful, why have I continued to fight because in you I have found a reason to live. Now, that you are gone, I have no reason to move on, I may as well let myself being gobbled out in the quicksand of solitude and wretchedness.
I have lost the only man whom I have ever loved more than anything in this world that could ever be imagined, dreamed, aspired and come true. I’m tired, overwhelmingly exhausted. I have drained my eyes with all the tears it could cry. I can’t take this anymore. Enough!
Why does it always have to be me who always have to give, who always have to understand, who always have to sacrifice, and in the end, in payback time, what do I get? Suffering! Pain! Agony! Don’t I deserve to be happy after all I have done, after all for my being faithful and true to my intentions. Why me?
My Æneas, “You who will never be mine!” Easy to hear, to comprehend but difficult to accept and forget –or else can never be accepted and forgotten. I know and I understand but I cannot afford to, for merely to know and to understand is already killing me. For it will only make me realize the fact that you are no longer mine. What else would it be when it comes to acceptance? And its scourging me to death. What an onslaught! What a very excruciating way to die! Still, I will continue loving you. To love and be hurt, that is my choice. Call me crazy or worse insane then let it be. For I will choose to be mad than to forget that you’re the only one I have loved, and will love forever. “Is it from me you would fly? Let these tears plead for me, this hand I gave to you. If I have in any way deserved well of you, if anything of mine was ever sweet to you?” Is it because you have to marry and because of your child that you would leave me in despair? If so, then it would be better for me to throw myself into a funeral pyre, or in another way drink a potion and encase myself in the “Fields of Mourning” to share with Dido’s grievances, for the two of us have been deserted by the one we love? I will do this even if I do not know whether you have truly loved me or it was just a whirlwind passion on your part. Forgive me. I love you so much and it will never change. I can’t stand the fact that you’re no longer in my arms. That you are no longer mine and will never be mine. Goodbye miserable world.
But on second thought… I changed my mind. I changed my mind for I am still alive. Alive but dead.
I choose to follow Dido in a way that I tried to end up my misery through death. But I changed my mind for how can I cherish, how can I linger, how can I reminisce those bittersweet memories about you if I die. I choose to die otherwise. I retreated suicide in order to die in another way, to die by living. I have chosen to live dying. Not to let die my feelings for you, but to remain a prisoner of my love for you, no matter what it takes, no matter how intolerable the pain is as long as it will bring me back to you. I will, I will. I will never love anyone anymore the way I have loved and will love you until then. Where I am going? Back to you, though you might not welcome me, or you might close your doors or even the gates for me but I will still be there. For with you, and only with you have I had found a place called home. Who am I now? I do not know.
Overcoming loneliness is not a solution, though it may appear to be as such, it is not. For it will only elude you to escape the situation, but in reality, no matter how you strive to change, the furies will haunt you. The furies will always be there to chase you and remind you of your misery. So what’s the use of solving the problem? It may be solved, yes, in time. But it will and will always will be a problem.
To overcoming of my loneliness through the medium of language and words or using language and words as my instrument is but a mere temporal solve. This language, these words are not enough to depict, to portray and to express what is supposed to be said. This “language will never capture what it aims at completely because the things there are, whether words, material objects, persons, human relations, or God, cannot be captured fully—and that is because to think that something could be captured fully is to think of it as static, as without possibility, as dead in the strictest sense.”
What matters to me is that I do not want to overcome my loneliness, that is why I am trying to deconstruct its overcoming. There’s no other way for overcoming it will only mean contradiction, will only mean double jeopardy on one’s self. Deconstructing the overcoming of loneliness is an attitude, particularly an “ethical attitude which is an attitude by means of which one injects theoretical and ethical humility back into the claims of texts and analyses, an attitude of continuing to re-member”
Deconstructing the overcoming of loneliness justifies that no matter how well I try to move away from the situation I am into is futile. For whatever escaping if not moving away I devise to overwhelm the situation, my memory will always be there to anamnesize and remind me of you and bring me back to you.
It is done. But though it may be done, “it does not assume that once its works has been done everything will have been included.” There is, something left unspoken that is sad to say, can neither be spoken of nor be written and no appropriate words can ever be able to convey its meaning and communicate it with all affection and sincerity.