Tones in G Major

Posted in diary files by cruela de vil on November 3, 2011

I realize it now. And I understand.

Letting go is something I have never been so good at. My exboyfriends can attest to that. I have never been good at handling goodbyes or see ya laters. What I do know is keep. Try and try until I die. Make things work even for the impossible. But sometimes, it just takes several scars and bruises for me to understand: It’s not going to work out.

I have ranted about this over and over. And I bet my friends are already getting sick and tired of hearing same ole shit from me. But this time, I believe I’ve reached my end point.. The phase where I’ve accepted the cold heart truth. The phase when I grew numb of it all. The phase when I no longer cry about it.

Time to face the music, Miss. 

I realized that the more I feed my heart with hope, the more I make a fool of myself. The more I reject the truth, the more I grow desperate. And desperation was the last straw. Still, I took it. Tried. And failed. Over and over again.

I drew inspiration from any thing. From anywhere. But what made my fire burning still was a song sang by my favorite band, Fireflight. The title of this song is For those who wait. I’m never a fan of waiting. But I waited. And waited. And waited. I was knocking at every door that I could see but it seemed like there’s no one there to answer. I thought, “Hey, there’s always something for those who wait. If I wait a little longer, if I knock a little harder, then, perhaps, there will be something there for me too!”

I guess, I didn’t wait longer. I COULDN’T WAIT ANY LONGER. I lost patience. I became vain. Jealous. I was selfish. I’ve looked at it on a “me” perspective. And I have forgotten the reason why I loved this craft so much.

When I was a little kid, my mom pushed me to join contests. I never really wanted to. And I never really did. Why? It was not what I wanted. Fame is something I don’t want to be a part of. I do it because I want to do it. I don’t want to make a living out of it. I don’t want to be popular because of it.

Everything changed when I met them. Thus, it started this mess of a life that I have.

Fame is like opium. It’s like crack. And the withdrawal syndrome kicked in hard.

I went through withdrawal. And withdrawal is still where I am today. Yes, I am not yet done feeling this pain. But what I’m done with is feeling sorry for myself. I’ve had it with feeling jealous. I’ve had it with self pity. I’ve had it with getting depressed. I’ve had enough of fooling myself. Of feeding myself false truths. I’ve had enough of these. It’s time to grow up. And move on.

I realized it just now. It wasn’t about the claps or the flattering handshakes after you step off that platform. It was about the message I want to get across. It was about sharing my life story and hope people would relate to me too. As an only child with conservative parents, sharing feelings is a stranger to me. And this has been my only way to express what I feel. My anger, my sadness, my love, my faith in God.. My everything.

So here’s a sweet good night..

Not to the craft, But to my addiction. You were there when I was lost. You gave me hope, when I was desperate. You gave me a voice. You helped me stand up for my right. Stand up to my parents and their “misconception” about who I really am. About what I can do.

But I guess for now, It’s time to take a bow.

If heavens allow, I’ll see you soon. And hopefully, by that time, no more parting please.

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