SHE Was a FICTION

FICTION-GENERAL

I.
I am perfect.
Well, that is all what people thinks of me. Neat, geek bachelor with a good job and a good pay, from a good family, came from what stupid companies termed of as “reputable school.”
Here’s what I can say, I am not perfect, no one is, I believe. Not even close to it. I had flaws. I had a fart that is earsplitting. I got 3’s in my grades. I got 4’s and 5’s in my quizzes. I cheat. I idiotically loved someone who actually played along. I had been broken, both heart and mind. I’m not psychotic, though I said my mind conked out. I feel I was and I’m still. I just can’t do anything but to sigh, sigh and sigh again.
I tried to list some things why people thought I was such an ideal person. Yeah, they’re right, I am smart, I was geeky boring at school, and I’m the whata-you-talkin-bout-guy with all the innocence and virginity (of thoughts). I was a leader at school and even luckily hit the national.
And here’s the worst, they thought I have this box of women that I can just like choose a fish from the aquarium. Whew! Paradoxical. How can I have this aquarium thing, I never had a girlfriend since birth.
Yes you read it right and clear, “since birth”.
Though, I bought flowers, chocolates, toy bears and all those stuffs, I wrote love letters, sang a few good songs not for me of course, but to each and every girl I loved.
If “love” is the right word, so be it. Besides, I’m the author of this so don’t you dare spoil my journal. Joke.
There is this woman I once courted and yes before you read the next lines, I did loved her; she annoyed me every time she insist of telling me that what I felt for her was not love but pure infatuation. Hell, what do you know about what I feel, have you ever dared to make yourself in to mine and interview my heart like, “hey Mr. Heart, you ain’t love me, do you?”
Love has a lot of different meaning from different people. A simple kiss might be sign of love; a simple H.H.W.W. (Holding hands while walking) M.P.S.S.P. (May Pa- Sway Sway Pa) (ah whatever!) and that’s-so-tight-I-can’t-breath-ahh hugs might be some acts of love for others and might be nothing for someone who just tries to use someone maybe as an accessory or just mere doll.

II.
Literally.
Love /l&v/ is a constellation of emotions and experiences related to a sense of strong affection or profound oneness.
Game /gaym/ n. 1 a form or spell of play or sport, esp. a competitive one played according to rules and decided by skill, strength, or luck.
Have you ever been dumped off like a trash and at the end, you realized that all you’ve been through with that someone was just some sort of game to her? And, with to highest level of absurdity, you don’t know why you still love that person; you still open a tiny hope that maybe someday she’ll come back saying, “I was wrong when I let you go”; “I want you back”.
Insensitive /(")in-'sen(t)-s(&-)tiv/ adj. 1. Not responsive or susceptible. 2. The art of being numb despite that fact that you exactly know what is going on. 3. Lacking feeling or tact (so insensitive as to laugh at someone in pain).
Am I the insensitive one because I didn’t saw the whole thing that made me look like a loser? Or she just anesthetized herself so as not to feel the mere fact that I and her inner self have communally felt something beyond friendship?
Pathetic isn’t it?

Yes, I lose in her game. I was lost in her world.
I was pathetically insane, believed that she’ll love me back, and believed in my faith that somehow, her feelings for me will grow. I hoped because she gave me a tiny chance, I hoped because she made me felt that I should.
Melodramatic. This is my tag. I’m sensitive and I wish that it’ll rain whenever I cry so no one will ever notice every single drop of tear. It’s so gay, I know. But who cares, every tear made me a man. A man who knows how to let the pain out, letting his eyes be wet for a moment and reflect on everything that is happening to his life, a man who knows how to love and cry.
Why do we cry? At some point, we realized that crying over spilled milk can never rewind scenes. At the end of the day, we get tired of sobbing the same reason, the same being and the same fact that it was all a dream, afar from reality.

III.
“It was the first time in my life that I fought for something that is real”.
Choy_78
The first time that I loved someone without hesitations, without inhibitions. It grew and I can’t help but to let it grow like a plant that is watered and exposed in the sun. I am dumb and innocent of the word and process of courtship but I was able to impress her effortlessly. I was able to get her trust. I was able to invite her into movies and date. We were happy together and we cherish each moment we are together. But then I woke one morning and it was all gone. I don’t know what happened. She neither.
This is the mystery of Love, you didn’t knew that it started and worst is you don’t know when it will end.

IV.
..............................