Hello, there.

After my suitable interval of hiatus, I thought it would be great to boot back by providing myself (and whoever reading this piece) with some introspection.
Undoubtedly, since this is my blog, this piece is all about heart matter.

I thought I was going to be mushy, sappy and all that when writing this.
But apparently, I can be more level-headed than I thought.

I've just had my dose of goody recently.
Yes, again, although I must say this time it's a calculated, expected one.
Oh what had happened, if one may inquire?
Oh just for quite a long time, I had been dwelling in a not-going-here-nor-there state of being with someone.

It was a very long play, which was run in three sequences.

The first half was award-winning drama with Felliniesque manner that every audience should prepare handkerchief upon the play.
I thought I managed to step out of the stage in style.
But of course, my counterpart wouldn't let it go that easy.
He was persistent, insistent in chasing me down to the pavement, and yes of course, lavished me with those words that every women were dying to hear.
He had blown me a hope in a jar of glass.
It was beautiful :) Seriously was.

And then the second half started.
The Felliniesque party had soured out, this one started as a cheesy teenage girl-flick.
Very fruity floral, if I might say.
I even started to do things I rarely did - heart ruled over head - I yielded to the pleasure of feeling someone close, physically and emotionally.
And before I knew it, I fell into grace, straight to the bottom of the jar.
Truly, madly, deeply.
To my surprise, my counterpart freaked out upon the fact and immediately checked out of the hotel.
Acknowledging it was the hardest thing to do, it was like being forced to drink a bad medicine.
Before the medicine had even been fully gulped, he had vanished without a trace.
All my veins, my capillaries, reacted strangely, like every single cells in my body screamed for a shadow.
It is true when you have your heart broken, it's literally painful you can hardly breathe.
Tears flowed, as the by product of the unparalleled pain.

But I wasn't going to lose the battle, or so I thought.
Then the third sequence played itself out.
I was already scheming things before they're even plotted.
But life is what happens to you when you're busy making plans.
While I was busy writing down the blue prints, the ugly truth presented itself out, whacking me right in my face.
The hope in a jar? It had been smashed right through the window by its maker.
He had literally blown it off.

That grand gesture was the act finale of the very long play.
The curtain had closed.
And this time, for good.

Am I sorry that it's gone?
To my dismay, I'm not.
The story had written itself out of the scenario and I'm too tired running around to keep up with it.
I am truly glad it's over.

As with any level of doneness, of course there were streaky lines here and there.
I was so naive to ever put the rose colored glasses on when he told me to.
The color was so deceiving I even thought he was that good looking.
Somehow my imagination had run wild, picturing the greenery was meadow of grass, never had it that it was murky swamp in actual.
And I almost had it in me that I could be winning the grand prize.
I've forgotten that there were never any grand prize, knowing the beauty contest runs every weekend with no telling if it will ever end.
If there were any prize at all, it was for ego of our own, to ever carry the John Doll of the year in our purse.

And so, for the closing, I'd like to make a toast to the winner.
Congratulations on your winning streak, again.
You might be inspecting your stellar jar of hearts closely, smirking, just before you put yourself to sleep tonight.
I salute you and I hope you are happy.

Yet as a friend put it, "Sometimes what you lose is not as important as what you find."
I think both he and I, have found the things we need afterplay.
We both win this time.
It's just that we're standing on different podiums.