pain

To The Lover Who Broke My Soul

Artwork by Sisse Brimberg

Artwork by Sisse Brimberg

I am a jaded soul. There are so many things in life of which I lost the will to be charmed; the will to believe. I am one of those fools who trumpeted the value of using logic in every challenge I meet and situation I face. I can tell you a dozen reasons why it is important to use your brain over matter that, I could swear, at the end of it, you will be convinced I am thoroughly and absolutely right.

But as Socrates puts it: “I do not know anything.” Not in this life or the beyond.

Thomas Gray is right.  Ignorance is bliss. I could not appreciate every word of it than now. How I wished, in my heart of hearts, that I stayed ignorant.  Being wise is a folly – a HUGE mistake.

A lot is going on in my head as I am writing this.  I do not even know if this will find its way to you. But I feel I have to finish it as a tribute to my wisdom gone bad. If only hindsight comes beforehand then maybe, just maybe, I will not find myself here.

I am one of those people who find delight in actively participating in comment forums in Facebook.  I like sharing my thoughts and ideas regardless whether such conforms or digresses from what other people think; for as long as the issue is close to my heart or for as long as the quote catches my attention, then I type away my two-cents.

This media has opened to me a bridge to friendship with people from all ages and from different walks of life.  It was fun, engaging and enriching because I get to learn cultures and new languages not to mention that I get to exchange ideas in varied subjects like philosophy, politics, history, life in general.  In other times, I have had the privilege to meet wounded souls and the compassionate and sensitive in me endeavor to lighten their load and maybe help them heal. I believed that I am making a difference in my own little way. I was happy.

However, as a parameter, I hardly add any new friend in my fb account.  Not that I do not trust them. Rather, because I am protecting the privacy of people who I personally know that are connected to me in this social media. So, only my messenger is open – a “free-for-all” kind of thing, for as long as you are a decent human then, you are welcome. To chat. To share. To pour your heart out. Whatever. I do not care.

Until he came along and changed my rules…rather broke them.

He is a freelance film maker – director – scriptwriter – painter…a true-blue artist who happens to be blessed with a nice singing voice. He is also eccentric, a recluse, a seeker of light. Yeah, you are seeing it now – just the right combination for my curious soul.  The initial conversations were stiff and difficult. What do I know about filmmaking? I should have stopped right there.  I should have seen the signs. But I chose not to.

It may be his eloquence with words or my willful curiosity, but, next thing I knew, I gave him a picture, added him in my account and gave him the email address he requested. Of course, he asked me to Google him. Why not? After all, he carved out a small name in his industry because of his entries in film festivals and sure enough, I found him…lent some credibility, sure.  But, truth of the matter was, I actually do not give a damn.  He can be that man or not, I could care less.

I was going to take it easy – just for my curiosity, I said.  Then he started sending messages right before he slept, in the morning when he woke up and in-between hours. Now, that is funny because I am the type of person who preaches about pitfalls of online attachment. I would say “guard your heart” to anyone. Online LDR thing has a slim chance of getting close to reality, I would add. So, use your brain and remember to be cautious if you do not want to break your soul.

Maybe I was so busy preaching the mantra to other people that I forget to walk the talk. I blame it on the song (his original composition that will be featured in his upcoming movie sung by him in the version given to me which I listened to every goddamn single day); I blame it on the poems and quotes taken from Kahlil Gibran and Rumi and Osho he forwarded; I blame it on his paintings shared to me – all these I sucked up, bait, hook and sinker, I spared nothing.

Ideally talented, ideally eccentric, my downfall. I allowed myself to be drawn away from the safe shores. The person is one of those people who subscribes to belief that friendship or companionship or love, for that matter, should not come with bondage, commitment, and expectations or what the hell not.

Foolishly, I thought I could handle it. Why not? I am – rather, was – good at being detached.  Hasn’t I preached so often about it? Of course, I know and therefore I can. But, love, like death, comes like a thief in the night.

Have I told you? Blindly, for some distorted ego, I always picture myself as someone strong who knows how to handle life well.  Ask me anything and I always have a solution. Everything for me boils down to playing smart, quitting while ahead, letting go when all else fails.  Basically, that is the mantra I follow in life.

Hence, when I suddenly realized I am headed to destruction, I put on brakes. I am a smart ass, see? So, I wrote him a letter saying so-and-so knowing that he would not trade his principle for mine. Nevertheless, it did not matter because I am quitting while ahead, that is what I thought.  Fact: what we thought is not necessarily what will become. I turned his world upside down it seems. I ruined his inner peace and serenity. And for that, he condemned me to forfeit his friendship and companionship maybe for eternity.

Ironically, I got what I bargained for but am not happy with it. I quit while I was ahead and I let go. So, why am I miserable? I find the answer in Kahlil Gibran:

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart,

And you will find, it is only that which has given you sorrow

That is giving you joy.

 

When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart,

And you will see, that which, in truth, you are weeping

For that which has been your delight.

Maybe I would have done better if I followed Charles Bukowski: “My dear, find what you love and let it kill you.”

Written by Marisse Lee