Bleeding it for whatever it’s worth. But I recognize it for what it really is. That time has passed, even for me. Whatever remains only linger because I allow it to. One could reason I allow it to linger because I could not completely stamp him out of my system. Perhaps. Yes, maybe that’s it. I always allow something to linger so that in case something returns, there’s a place where it could grow back. But it doesn’t necessarily mean I’d go out of my way to nurture it.
Even the way I’m writing this is somehow forced. I just needed to write something as a sort of marker. And usually, news of that sort would have me crying my heart out on a post. In this case, no. Perhaps I’ve already cried myself out in earlier posts, I’ll give it that. Now, I am most agreeable that it is better this way. In fact, it should end up this way. If I can’t have it in my relationships, I think I’m mature enough to wish it for them.
I won’t lie to you. It unnerves me how I could be so matter-of-fact about this. Maybe because I’ve already cried over this before. But that’s what unnerves me more – the actual time when I learned of it (or at least had a better idea that perhaps it may be true) I didn’t even post anything about it. Which makes me think that even then, I wasn’t that enamored anymore.
Maybe if I listen to the old songs I could come up with how I felt then. But at this moment, without any catalyst, I’m okay with it.
It grates against everything I used to believe in — and mostly my pride for having to take it back — but I guess I really have to admit that my professions of love were unsubstantiated. I loved my image of him and what could be, but the truth is, I can’t really love him because I barely know him. And that you can’t base a relationship on.