The earth is one big battle field made up of different big or miniscule battlefields in different places around the world. The school is one big battle arena wherein only those strong enough to survive the bullies emerge. One's workplace is another battlefield one must conquer to be able to survive. Even love is a battlefield. And everyone is a warrior, wearing different sets of armour and sporting different set of weapons every now and then.
My world has always been a battlefield. From the moment I started schooling until I graduated from college up to the time I started every single job I had since I ventured into the professional world. Even love really was a battlefield. I fought, I slew, I got scathed, I was slain, I surrendered. But love and its constant battles can really get into one's skin and leave a tattoo. A scar that is so permament one can no longer have it removed even if one would go through hell and back just to seek a way to remove it.
I've been through hell and back. In order to save myself from all the pain, I ventured into the dark realms of hell and would always emerged scathed yet stronger than before I went there. Since the concept of romantic relationships were introduced into my system, 21 men have come and gone with different motives and reasons for leaving. Some left and made a cut nastier than the others. Others simply left, without any explanation, without any word thus leaving a wound that was never fully healed. Others simply gave up fighting the love battlefield with me. Different men, different relationships but nonetheless, all of them leaving a permanent scar, a wound that pushed me each time to go to hell and back.
When someone shouted to me, "You don't know what I've been through just to get over him!", I wanted to slap that girl, knowing that the relationship she was talking about was just her first heartbreak. I wanted to shout back at her and tell her, "You don't know the hell I've been through to fix myself all these years!" just to show her how my heart has been hurt more than the pain she had experienced. Hell wasn't even sufficient enough to be used in the situations I've been through just to get over all of them. Making pacts with the devil just to regain my strength after every heartbreak wasn't exactly a walk in the park nor was it a bed of roses. And pacts I made just to temporarily fix myself until the next jerk comes breaking me again. One heartbreak over a guy she was in a relationship with for a few years can never really sum up greater than my 21 heartbreaks and heartaches combined. Oh, the nerve to tell me hers was greater! Throwing one's self over to a guy who barely even cared, more so love her wasn't anyone's fault but hers. Same as some of my heartbreaks. But one thing I learned from everything, those heartbreaks and heartaches caused by someone who loved you was greater than the pain caused by those who did not. In letting go of those jerks who did not really love you at all, you free yourself of a stupidity you committed, while in letting go of those guys who loved you as much as you loved them, you are freeing yourself of a once in a lifetime love you feel for that person, and of the person you once were when you were with them. In my case, it was letting go of the ones that really loved me that broke my soul more than any other pain caused to my heart.
Sinag. A ray of sun. I once called someone by that term of endearment. He was like a ray of sun filling up my life in a time when I was already bored of gray-clad hallways and dusty rooms filled with chairs with almost broken armrests. Having been in a number of relationships before Sinag, I thought I knew everything about love. But he proved me wrong, and our love story painted a whole new picture in my head I never knew I could paint. Most of the college professors back then tell me that they were fans of our love story. A guy and a girl from two totally different religions, trying to make the differences work for our advantage. It was such a good relationship wherein we give, and we take. Of all the guys I've been with, he was the only one I submitted to without him asking me to. He would not do the things I dislike, and I would do the same to him. One professor even commented, "You were at your best when you were with each other." Indeed, I was at my best. My grades were on the top of the class, with no failures and only one grade below 85. He was, for the first time since he enrolled in school, attending classes regularly and without a miss. But people say, good things must come to an end. And a relationship like ours ended sooner than I expected. One day, he had gone to school a little late than his usual time and went to search for me. By the look on his face the moment I saw him, I new darker times were ahead. Could his parents have known about us? Could my mom have found out about us and threatened him? Those are some of the questions that plagued my head at those few seconds he was walking towards me. The news he gave me was totally unexpected. Here is the man I have loved and given my life and soul to, telling me that he will be married soon. Married to a girl he doesn't love. Married to a girl from the same religion as him, from the same social strata as their family. Married to another girl. Married to someone not me. At that moment, I felt my whole world start to crumble right in front of my very own eyes. There in front of me, is my whole world being snatched away by religion and traditions I can never fight with. My armour started to rust, and my sword felt like lead in my hands. The mighty warrior princess, his princess, was starting to die on the inside of her armour. That day, the heavens were pouring out their tears. It was raining beyond cats and dogs, a sign I took as the heavens crying over one real love ending because of religion and tradition. Days passed and I wallowed in self-pity and depression. Gone is the warrior in me. I would still see him in school and he would still spend most of his time with me. But the relationship has already been scathed. Spending time with me until his wedding day was his way of dealing with the inevitable, while I spend time cooking my heart out in my culinary classes. I was broken, hurt, and in pain and he chose to be nonchalant about it. Or that's what it looked like for me. Until one day, he decided to wear his armour again and pick up his sword. He decided that he is fighting. Fighting for me. But that fight was short-lived. He had to give it up for my safety. I fought back, telling the world I don't care if I die but I will fight for his love. The love I know will never leave his heart until his dying day. I fought back until I can no longer fight back. I fought back until I can no longer protect and defend myself from the inevitable destruction that was looming over. The day I gave up was the day he tied the knot. I fought hard until the last second, until the minute he was entering the wedding venue. I fought, I fought until I can no longer fight. He got married and got himself two kids. And now, years after that last battle we fought together, thinking of him can only bring a smile, none of the pain and hurt I used to feel back then. None of the heartache that pushed me to make a pact with the devil just so I can have my old self back.
Antukin. That was a title of a song that took the airwaves like a storm a few years back. That is also what I called a man who came into my life and took it by storm. I fell in love so fast and I fell hard. He was the epitome of perfect. Everything about him looks perfect in my perspective. But just as swiftly he came, swiftly he left. I don't know if he ever got to know how much I love him and how much I hurt when he left but I guess he will never know. This was one battle I never won, and one battle I can never win. His heart is one trophy that could never be mine, nor will it ever be mine. It has already been claimed, I think. Claimed long before I came into his life, claimed before I even rallied to claim it. "tadhana'y merong trip na makapangyarihan, kung ayaw may dahilan, kung gusto palaging merong paraan... pinaiyak ka ng manghuhula, hindi na raw tayo magkasamang tatanda. buti na lang merong langit na nagtatangol sa pag-ibig na pursigido't matiyaga." as the song puts it. It wasn't the fortune teller who made me cry. It was the person who sang me this song before he boarded his flight to Doha one sunny June day. The lyrics was right. We won't be growing old together. Not because I did not want to, but because he already knew from the start that his home is not with my heart. Doning my armour, I fought back. I wanted to end up with him. But I found myself one day retreating. I found myself under an office desk, crying my eyes out. And more of those crying bouts followed as I saw how happy he is with a life without me on it. But I wouldn't shed my armour. Crying, I went back to the field and shouted to everyone who would listen, "I want him back!" After 2 months of crying and shouting my heart out, he came back. He came back only to leave again. That kind of battle went on for a few months until, a few days before my 21st birthday, he left and never returned. Of all my dances with the devil, the one that happened after he left was the hardest. Not because the moves where complicated, but because my heart wasn't into it. I was forcing myself to get back my old self, the one I had before I met him but my heart wasn't fully into it. I fought, and fought hard to have him back. My dance with the devil ended with my heart badly bruised than ever before, and my soul ripped apart. What transpired after was totally out of my control. Or so I thought. Guys came into my life and I felt like I was slowly regaining my old self again. What I noticed though, in the months after I left them, or they left me is that, in each one of those guys, there was a part that reminded me of him. The hair, the physique, the musical skills, the gentle demeanor, the likes and dislikes. Months after he left and everything in my world still seem to revolve around him. I took this as a result of him leaving without even bothering to tell me why he is leaving but I never took it as a result of me not wanting to move on. That moment I realized that it was a result of me not wanting to move on, I fought. I fought with myself. I threatened the girl in the mirror so she would stop holding on and start letting go. My battle with myself took me to a point of desperation that took me to a place called Calvary. I've been here before, at this small hill to lay down my sins and disappointments and heartaches. Never have I thought that I would be back again, this time with a burden heavier than the heartaches I laid down before at the foot of that cross at the top of the hill. Putting down my sword at the foot of the hill, I made my way up to where the cross was situated, with every step killing me. It was a harder climb than before, with my heart heavier than ever. I did not want to lay it all down there this time. I don't want to surrender my battle for his heart here. I wanted to go on, to fight until my last day on earth. But something divine interfered and whispered, "Enough. You have suffered enough. Let me fight the rest of the fight for you." So at the foot of the cross on the top of the hill, I laid it all down. My heartache, my love for him, and every single question I have in my head. Memories of Antukin will finally be put to sleep.
BEST. After all those battles I fought for love, I never really thought that one day, when I have already put down my armour, that real love at its best would find me. In a day I least expected to be found by pure, unconditional, once-in-a-lifetime love, I was found. From warrior princess to someone's only princess and soon to be queen, my life has changed from black and white to colorful. After all the heartaches, heartbreaks, bruised egos, and one ripped soul that is mine, the future looked like a rainbow in the sky. Here I am, after fighting the battles of my heart, finally getting ready to end my year with a new surname, and a new home. Though the road that led me to this path was a hard, twisted, rugged one, I know that this path leads to my heart's home. And I'm never going back to where I used to be.
My world has always been a battlefield. From the moment I started schooling until I graduated from college up to the time I started every single job I had since I ventured into the professional world. Even love really was a battlefield. I fought, I slew, I got scathed, I was slain, I surrendered. But love and its constant battles can really get into one's skin and leave a tattoo. A scar that is so permament one can no longer have it removed even if one would go through hell and back just to seek a way to remove it.
I've been through hell and back. In order to save myself from all the pain, I ventured into the dark realms of hell and would always emerged scathed yet stronger than before I went there. Since the concept of romantic relationships were introduced into my system, 21 men have come and gone with different motives and reasons for leaving. Some left and made a cut nastier than the others. Others simply left, without any explanation, without any word thus leaving a wound that was never fully healed. Others simply gave up fighting the love battlefield with me. Different men, different relationships but nonetheless, all of them leaving a permanent scar, a wound that pushed me each time to go to hell and back.
When someone shouted to me, "You don't know what I've been through just to get over him!", I wanted to slap that girl, knowing that the relationship she was talking about was just her first heartbreak. I wanted to shout back at her and tell her, "You don't know the hell I've been through to fix myself all these years!" just to show her how my heart has been hurt more than the pain she had experienced. Hell wasn't even sufficient enough to be used in the situations I've been through just to get over all of them. Making pacts with the devil just to regain my strength after every heartbreak wasn't exactly a walk in the park nor was it a bed of roses. And pacts I made just to temporarily fix myself until the next jerk comes breaking me again. One heartbreak over a guy she was in a relationship with for a few years can never really sum up greater than my 21 heartbreaks and heartaches combined. Oh, the nerve to tell me hers was greater! Throwing one's self over to a guy who barely even cared, more so love her wasn't anyone's fault but hers. Same as some of my heartbreaks. But one thing I learned from everything, those heartbreaks and heartaches caused by someone who loved you was greater than the pain caused by those who did not. In letting go of those jerks who did not really love you at all, you free yourself of a stupidity you committed, while in letting go of those guys who loved you as much as you loved them, you are freeing yourself of a once in a lifetime love you feel for that person, and of the person you once were when you were with them. In my case, it was letting go of the ones that really loved me that broke my soul more than any other pain caused to my heart.
Sinag. A ray of sun. I once called someone by that term of endearment. He was like a ray of sun filling up my life in a time when I was already bored of gray-clad hallways and dusty rooms filled with chairs with almost broken armrests. Having been in a number of relationships before Sinag, I thought I knew everything about love. But he proved me wrong, and our love story painted a whole new picture in my head I never knew I could paint. Most of the college professors back then tell me that they were fans of our love story. A guy and a girl from two totally different religions, trying to make the differences work for our advantage. It was such a good relationship wherein we give, and we take. Of all the guys I've been with, he was the only one I submitted to without him asking me to. He would not do the things I dislike, and I would do the same to him. One professor even commented, "You were at your best when you were with each other." Indeed, I was at my best. My grades were on the top of the class, with no failures and only one grade below 85. He was, for the first time since he enrolled in school, attending classes regularly and without a miss. But people say, good things must come to an end. And a relationship like ours ended sooner than I expected. One day, he had gone to school a little late than his usual time and went to search for me. By the look on his face the moment I saw him, I new darker times were ahead. Could his parents have known about us? Could my mom have found out about us and threatened him? Those are some of the questions that plagued my head at those few seconds he was walking towards me. The news he gave me was totally unexpected. Here is the man I have loved and given my life and soul to, telling me that he will be married soon. Married to a girl he doesn't love. Married to a girl from the same religion as him, from the same social strata as their family. Married to another girl. Married to someone not me. At that moment, I felt my whole world start to crumble right in front of my very own eyes. There in front of me, is my whole world being snatched away by religion and traditions I can never fight with. My armour started to rust, and my sword felt like lead in my hands. The mighty warrior princess, his princess, was starting to die on the inside of her armour. That day, the heavens were pouring out their tears. It was raining beyond cats and dogs, a sign I took as the heavens crying over one real love ending because of religion and tradition. Days passed and I wallowed in self-pity and depression. Gone is the warrior in me. I would still see him in school and he would still spend most of his time with me. But the relationship has already been scathed. Spending time with me until his wedding day was his way of dealing with the inevitable, while I spend time cooking my heart out in my culinary classes. I was broken, hurt, and in pain and he chose to be nonchalant about it. Or that's what it looked like for me. Until one day, he decided to wear his armour again and pick up his sword. He decided that he is fighting. Fighting for me. But that fight was short-lived. He had to give it up for my safety. I fought back, telling the world I don't care if I die but I will fight for his love. The love I know will never leave his heart until his dying day. I fought back until I can no longer fight back. I fought back until I can no longer protect and defend myself from the inevitable destruction that was looming over. The day I gave up was the day he tied the knot. I fought hard until the last second, until the minute he was entering the wedding venue. I fought, I fought until I can no longer fight. He got married and got himself two kids. And now, years after that last battle we fought together, thinking of him can only bring a smile, none of the pain and hurt I used to feel back then. None of the heartache that pushed me to make a pact with the devil just so I can have my old self back.
Antukin. That was a title of a song that took the airwaves like a storm a few years back. That is also what I called a man who came into my life and took it by storm. I fell in love so fast and I fell hard. He was the epitome of perfect. Everything about him looks perfect in my perspective. But just as swiftly he came, swiftly he left. I don't know if he ever got to know how much I love him and how much I hurt when he left but I guess he will never know. This was one battle I never won, and one battle I can never win. His heart is one trophy that could never be mine, nor will it ever be mine. It has already been claimed, I think. Claimed long before I came into his life, claimed before I even rallied to claim it. "tadhana'y merong trip na makapangyarihan, kung ayaw may dahilan, kung gusto palaging merong paraan... pinaiyak ka ng manghuhula, hindi na raw tayo magkasamang tatanda. buti na lang merong langit na nagtatangol sa pag-ibig na pursigido't matiyaga." as the song puts it. It wasn't the fortune teller who made me cry. It was the person who sang me this song before he boarded his flight to Doha one sunny June day. The lyrics was right. We won't be growing old together. Not because I did not want to, but because he already knew from the start that his home is not with my heart. Doning my armour, I fought back. I wanted to end up with him. But I found myself one day retreating. I found myself under an office desk, crying my eyes out. And more of those crying bouts followed as I saw how happy he is with a life without me on it. But I wouldn't shed my armour. Crying, I went back to the field and shouted to everyone who would listen, "I want him back!" After 2 months of crying and shouting my heart out, he came back. He came back only to leave again. That kind of battle went on for a few months until, a few days before my 21st birthday, he left and never returned. Of all my dances with the devil, the one that happened after he left was the hardest. Not because the moves where complicated, but because my heart wasn't into it. I was forcing myself to get back my old self, the one I had before I met him but my heart wasn't fully into it. I fought, and fought hard to have him back. My dance with the devil ended with my heart badly bruised than ever before, and my soul ripped apart. What transpired after was totally out of my control. Or so I thought. Guys came into my life and I felt like I was slowly regaining my old self again. What I noticed though, in the months after I left them, or they left me is that, in each one of those guys, there was a part that reminded me of him. The hair, the physique, the musical skills, the gentle demeanor, the likes and dislikes. Months after he left and everything in my world still seem to revolve around him. I took this as a result of him leaving without even bothering to tell me why he is leaving but I never took it as a result of me not wanting to move on. That moment I realized that it was a result of me not wanting to move on, I fought. I fought with myself. I threatened the girl in the mirror so she would stop holding on and start letting go. My battle with myself took me to a point of desperation that took me to a place called Calvary. I've been here before, at this small hill to lay down my sins and disappointments and heartaches. Never have I thought that I would be back again, this time with a burden heavier than the heartaches I laid down before at the foot of that cross at the top of the hill. Putting down my sword at the foot of the hill, I made my way up to where the cross was situated, with every step killing me. It was a harder climb than before, with my heart heavier than ever. I did not want to lay it all down there this time. I don't want to surrender my battle for his heart here. I wanted to go on, to fight until my last day on earth. But something divine interfered and whispered, "Enough. You have suffered enough. Let me fight the rest of the fight for you." So at the foot of the cross on the top of the hill, I laid it all down. My heartache, my love for him, and every single question I have in my head. Memories of Antukin will finally be put to sleep.
BEST. After all those battles I fought for love, I never really thought that one day, when I have already put down my armour, that real love at its best would find me. In a day I least expected to be found by pure, unconditional, once-in-a-lifetime love, I was found. From warrior princess to someone's only princess and soon to be queen, my life has changed from black and white to colorful. After all the heartaches, heartbreaks, bruised egos, and one ripped soul that is mine, the future looked like a rainbow in the sky. Here I am, after fighting the battles of my heart, finally getting ready to end my year with a new surname, and a new home. Though the road that led me to this path was a hard, twisted, rugged one, I know that this path leads to my heart's home. And I'm never going back to where I used to be.
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| (photo from Google search. That's Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, also the Goddess of War when she's Minerva) |
