Liar, liar, Gucci pants on fire [take a bow, this is your curtain call]

Okay. I lied. I said I've moved on, but I really haven't. I did think about the situation and rationalized everything, but I seem to be incapable of internalizing my realizations. I always thought that if I don't talk about or think about A, I could fool myself into thinking that the mess never happened. It was effective, but it was wrong. For a moment, I seem to have forgotten the point of defense mechanisms, one of them being repression. A defense mechanism is just something the ego does to avoid tension. It avoids tension, but it doesn't necessarily get rid of it. Repressing my memories is a way of running away from the pain. It does not make me strong as I mentioned in my previous entry. It makes me weak.

It kills me to know that not only have I lied, I also realized that what I have been doing proves how weak I am. I always thought of myself as strong, but I realized that flushing bad thoughts to the unconscious just shows that I am a coward. Instead of facing my problems head on, I run away from it. I believe that it takes more strength to admit defeat, and now that I have realized my mistake, I am admitting mine.

I said I've moved on, and for a while, I thought I did. But when I think about A, all the memories that I've sent away come flooding back, and it hurts. Repression works. It's tried and tested, and there are days when I don't think about him. But on the rare chance that I do, everything comes back, and it's just as painful. For the first time, I reluctantly entertained the thought that I will never be with him again. It was hard, but I knew that it was highly probable. I used to fervently hold on to what he told me the night we broke up, that now is not the time, but I finally resigned myself to the thought that I might not be able to see him again and hold his hand, kiss him, hear him make nyar nyar and Kokey sounds, and play the silly games that we play.

This morning, I woke up with aching limbs and an aching butt. Yesterday, I went ice skating with my brother in Mall of Asia and it gave me a high I haven't experienced in a long time. Despite the one false move I made while helping my brother up [and ending with my butt on the ice], it was fun. Because I couldn't move, I spent the morning watching Meet the Robinsons on Disney. I liked the movie when I first saw it [I cried], but I didn't expect it would hold new meaning for me. Keep moving forward was the key quote, and I remember liking it while I was drying my tears in the theater. If there was a quote that I should internalize now, it would be that. Keep moving forward. I once said that you shouldn't let your failed relationship ruin everything else, but it also means you shouldn't let it ruin the romantic aspect of your life.

I think it's time to face the truth. I haven't moved on. I still love you, and maybe I forever will. My love for you was pure, honest, and selfless. I have loved you in a way I haven't loved anyone else, but I have to move forward. Lewis in Meet the Robinsons was given the chance to go back in time and see his mother the night she gave him up for adoption. He had the opportunity to change her mind, but he didn't. He was about to tap her shoulder, but he realized that if he did, the future would change and he wouldn't have the Robinsons as his family. Like Lewis, I will not tap your shoulder. As much as it hurts for me to let you go, I know I have to. I too, am going down a downward spiral, and the only way I could break out is by moving on. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Kathy told me that I can never find somebody better if I believe that I have already found the best. I will, no, shall, move forward.

P.S. But on the off chance that you do change your mind, let's give it a shot. I read somewhere that The One is not pre-ordained. You work for it, and you fight for it, until you are each other's destinies. If you feel and want me to be the other half of your circle, I'm here. (after all, I still am in the process of moving forward)

You gotta have faith [or else George Michael will get you]

I believe in the Marquis de Sade when he said that faith is for the weak, the last hope of the hopeless, when all its rational forms have flown out the window and all you have left are metaphysical, often mystical ideals.

I was pretty much surprised that after the train wreck that happened, I came out unscathed. I half-expected that I would end up like what happened after Q, but on the contrary, I was fine. When Q [who as my friends know is my first love] and I called it quits, everything changed. My grades dropped like the Little Boy over Hiroshima, my usual enthusiasm for life dwindled away, and get this, I even contemplated suicide. How pathetic was that? Aware of an impending and twice as horrible a wreck, I was worried because it was a couple of weeks away from the prelims and I was scared of failing the exams. It may surprise you, but I put a high value on my education. I may appear lax, but when it comes to my grades, it's no laughing matter. How the hell am I supposed to buy dirty martinis without a high-paying job somewhere in the south of France?

Turns out, I did well. I did have a hard time in my Social Psychology exam, but I'm sure I could somehow scrape a passing grade. I wasn't able to get all my results, but I am proud to say that I got a 92% in my Statistics [scoring the second highest - grr, Laura], and a 96% in my Theories of Personality, scoring the highest in my class. Needless to say, I went home straightaway to brag to my mom that my brother isn't the only smart one in the family.

In spite of my academic success, I must say I am lonely. Living in singelity [sic] takes a lot of getting used to, and I do miss the company, the adoration, and the non-judgemental ears that go with the boyfriend package. Don't get me wrong, I'm over A, but he's still on my mind, occupying a cramped space between my Occulomotor and Facial Nerve. I'm just saying, letting go of a good habit and being single just takes getting used to.

I decided to accept my fate as a single man when Jane, a very good friend of mine said that sometimes the heart quits, not because it loses hope but because it wants to live an uncomplicated life. And then I thought to myself, I do want that. An uncomplicated life. These past few days, I've made desperate attempts to resuscitate my dying love life but obviously it was a sad and embarrassing endeavor not worth talking about. I finally smelled the desperation, and it wasn't Dolce and Gabbana. After Jane imparted those wise words, I decided to live by it. I am not however, going to give up on love. I believe in the ancient Greek saying that we are born half a circle and we spend the rest of our lives looking for our other half. What I need to do is give my fragile heart a rest and focus my attention on something else. When I do break my vow of celibacy, I want it to be worth it.

I was just glad I had great friends I could always depend on. I was happy that after a year, my UST friends and I would be together again, maybe for the last time because Kay would be leaving for Canada next week. It took a year before the grand reunion as Eunice finally got knocked up and gave birth a couple of weeks ago. We were slated to go out yesterday, but Ysa, Eunice and I had a hard time contacting Kay and sadly, we had to cancel. I ended up going to Alabang with the folks to have dinner and watch the new Batman flick.

While the kids were playing in Timezone, I went to Powerbooks to browse their latest books. The buzz was still about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series so I picked up a book of quotes [Beauty Parlor Wisdom] and read it. I didn't really expect to pick up nuggets of wisdom, but there was this particular quote that I liked: the darker you go, the brighter the light. It is true that when you've hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up.

And then I realized, I didn't really believe in the Marquis de Sade. Yes, he has made very good points about great sex, but his quote about faith did not strike me as accurate anymore. Faith is not for the weak. It is for the strong. Holding on to something you are not sure will pull you through takes an enormous amount of strength and courage. I may not be the bravest Brady in the bunch, but I do have faith. Faith in myself that I can do it. Faith that despite the many miles that stand between us, we will forever be friends. Faith that I would one day meet someone who would be sure that I was the one, sweep me off my feet and take my breath away until I asphyxiate and die.

Follow the royal road to the unconscious [it has yellow bricks too]

Repression by far is my favorite defense mechanism. Though the one I usually practice is displacement, I recently discovered that you can wilfully raise your defense walls with Sigmund Freud's concepts. I always thought this happens automatically, but I was surprised I managed to send bittersweet memories down the royal road of the unconscious.

I learned from someone that if you don't talk about a thing or think about it, it might as well have not existed in the first place. I forgot the name of the concept but this idea is quite similar to an ancient chinese riddle: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

If I don't talk about what happened or think about it, maybe I can deceive myself into thinking that it never happened. Of course, distant echoes from another time still creep in my head, but I flush these thoughts away and focus my thoughts and my energy into something else. It actually works. I must admit, I still am sad, but I don't really know why. Eventually, through repression, I let go of all my angst, and emerged with what Alfred Adler would call a healthy personality. Now, I can think about things related to what recently happened without bursting into histrionic tears [I'm exaggerating to prove a point]. This I guess is the Freudian definition of moving on.

The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People author Stephen Covey states that unexpressed feelings never die. They are buried alive and come back later in uglier ways. But so what? I'd rather have it ugly and happy than pretty and sad.

The death row pardon two minutes too late.

It's funny how the person who promises you forever leaves before eternity even starts.

Funnier, I fell for it.

Analyze this, Sigmund Freud.

Just for the sake of being vague, allow me to say this: I miss my heartbeat for you.

Lately, I'm being bothered by a new set of emotions. Actually, I wouldn't call it an emotion because it's more of a state - but it's the accompanying emotions of this state that's bothering me.

I believe in the theory that we as a people grow through conflict. Serious or otherwise, every individual goes through some sort of problem each day. Oddly, I don't have any. Every aspect of my life is running smoothly. I have stellar grades, I recently got hold of two important positions in two separate councils in my school, I have great relations with my colleagues, professors, and friends, and to top it off - I have a kicking love life. And that's what's bothering me. Everything is going well. Too well.

I believe that it is conflict that makes our life interesting. Exciting. It makes for a silly anectode, a great story, a fabulous ice-breaker, and a reason to get together on a weeknight to drink with supportive friends. We learn through conflict. We grow through conflict. I fear that if my life stays this way, I would remain stagnant - rotting in my wonderland existence of WASPy persuasion.

My guy, who we will refer to as A, says that this is normal. It is, in fact, what we should feel. Have I reached a tensionless state that can only be achieved through hypnosis? Analyze that, Mr. Freud. Freud would probably say that I've let go of my oral fixation, or resolved my birth trauma, but I guess you could sum up what I'm going through as a clean conscience.

This feeling is weird. The feeling of not worrying about anything is totally new to me. But I like it.