Annals of a Broken Heart

November 14, 2008
By Coleen Valdez, Caloocan, ZZ

The hour hand lands on twelve. A tip-toeing sound surprisingly becomes audible to my ears. In a corner, she lights a candle and grabs something, and without even seeing what it is, every beat of the heart begins to thump my chest. All at once, tears cascade down my face as I witness a horrific scene of franticness… I see her smile peters out in its bitter surrender to the dimness of the night as she, crying her eyes out, slashes her wrist.

Sometimes, as I saunter alone around our place, I commit every memoir of my sweet childhood to memory in every corner, every part and every single thing. Living room? Ha! That’s where I got my first big bruise. Oh how horrified mom was back then! That porcelain vase? How can I forget? That brought me my first act of lying. The basement? It will always be a little horror. I won’t ever forgive it for almost sucking the life out of me back when I was six. Oh how miss those nights when mommy used to tuck me into bed… those nights I wouldn’t sleep a wink unless daddy was home. True enough, it plants a pang of pensiveness on your heart whenever you look back at your toddler days. And as far as I could remember, the most painful damage I had then was the wound on my knee. Only that.

There was this little girl who made all of my childhood very much etched in my mind and heart. If there were any word greater than “best friend”, I would confer on her such title. She was my partner in everything, my sister-cousin and my alter ego. We were in each other's pocket. Though we were thought of to be almost the same in every single thing, I knew I was the one always looking up to her. Even now that we’re full-fledged, I still admire her as a person. To me, she’s always radiated such a glow that no one else seems to steer clear of looking at. She’s always been the smiling face in the limelight—all the rage, envied and admired. She is loved and valued by one and all.

Time went on and she finally reached the bridge next to Barbie dolls and fairytales. She hoofed it until she found herself in glistening gown and stilettos adorned with beautiful gems. Such a romantic fairytale it was indeed when she stumbled upon her prince charming at last.

Nevertheless, just like all other stories of princes and princesses bound in an enchanted world of magical love, their story once upon a time was not happily ever after. This was when all hell broke loose.

I would rather see a woman on the rebound who gets to learn from every wrong guy than see the woman she had turned into when her hopes and dreams in love came clattering down. Every waking moment, I would see her shedding tears. As luck would have it, it wasn’t their anniversary, his ex-lover’s birthday or anything as important as these that made her cry time and again. It was those petty things—that brand of chocolate she knew he would love to eat, that corny punch line he would have told her, that facetious look he would surely laugh at and the like. If she wouldn’t cry, she would seem to be a harebrained person looking out to nowhere—her face so bland and her eyes so wretched.

She changed. She seemed to be someone I had never known before. From the way she would act, apparently, she was simply breathing, not living. She was like waiting for death to loom and if it did, she would resign herself to it warts and all. It scared me a lot that she might throw a wobbly and consequently lose herself—the woman whom I and everyone else admired.

I felt the deep twinge in her heart. I felt the gulf that the past had left her with. I felt how hard and painful it was for her to struggle for survival and to remain standing and firm amidst the tempest that pushed her to duck. She slashed her wrist, her weight dropped and her face was awash with sadness. I wanted to slap her number of times so that she could dodge from the past that made her stagnate into great misery. No, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to add up to her burdens. I didn’t want her to feel that nobody loved her. But I wanted to redeem her. I wanted her to come back. I just didn’t know how. Anyone who would see her would feel the emptiness and dejection she had inside. Her eyes spelled them out. She was broken, and she felt like she had nothing and even no one to live for anymore. Yes, her life in love had died, but there’s no way she would die with it. We wouldn’t let that happen.

I witnessed what my friend had gone through all those times. I realized then that love is not all it’s cracked up to be. It starts sweetly, but it winds up to bitterness. I’ve always thought that being wise can lead me to a fairytale romance—CRAZY! Nothing’s a fairytale and there would be no such thing in love. Love is nothing short of lethal lance. Just when you are doing well, it stabs you unawares behind until you’re too helpless to stand up. It’s a revoltingly two-faced cheater and a silent killer. It gives you nothing but drenched pillows, sleepless nights, faded dreams and a heart seriously ripped to shreds. Nevertheless, all these monsters of love shouldn’t stop us from loving. Not at all. I may sound ironic, but it’s true. Girls, it’s not just guys whom you give your love to and guys, the same. You may have lost the love of your life but never forget to take a look around you. You’re surrounded by people who will never leave you by hook or by crook—family and friends; and you are guided by the hand of the One who truly loves you—God. If there’s one lesson from which you will learn everything about life, that’s LOVE. And if you learn once, you learn again… then again… and again. You don’t stop learning because that’s all there is to life. It doesn’t end where heartaches begin. If you lose someone today, surely someone better is coming tomorrow.

“I’ll get by. I don’t know how, but I know I shall. People have no idea of how excruciating and agonizing was that pain I had to go through. Yet, I am glad that I was never left alone no matter how many times I tried to tell myself that I was alone. My whole world revolved around him. And now, I’m leaving that world to him. I’m living my own and no one else aside from me can ever take control of that again. I’ll be fine. He made me stronger. Now, there’s no way I will miss out on any chance to be someone better. Thank you, Angel.”

God always wakes up in the middle of the storm to give us lessons to learn. He breaks our hearts so that we may learn to value the things around us and realize what true happiness is all about; and he takes away people we love so that we may learn to value love itself. After all, there’s always another beginning for those who try and there’s always a glimmer of hope for those who believe. Letting go is a decision that can never be dictated on us; acceptance is the key to a new beginning, to understanding failures and to stop crying over and looking back at the things that could have been but will never be; and time is the healer of all wounds.

Childhood was painless; teenage is painful. Cinderella thought us to fire a ricocheting bullet against the wall—so insane. Screw her and all her allies in their flimsy-fancy-chariot who’ve ensnared us in a chamber of enchantment and magic, of dreams that will never come to life. After all, do we stop believing? No, we just learn to do the best when that frog doesn’t turn out to be our prince after all—MOVE ON.

To my alter ego, Life MUST go on.

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This article has 1 comment.

tomkolizer said...
on Nov. 17 2008 at 12:35 pm
nice nice..good job hehe

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