I have confirmed it.
I am now fully convinced I am insane. While waiting for Ella to finish browsing through her Friendster (eewww... like so five years ago!), I started introspecting about my feelings. For the boy. If only because more people are speculating now, wanting to know what's making the difference in me.
I needed the time off, even from my own fantasies. I needed a brutally honest time alone with myself. Thanks to my sister, I had it.
I asked myself this:
You know that you are going through grief. You know that people who went through losses sometimes try to replace the people who abdicated their life with those who are near enough to fill it. You feel alone. You don't like the feeling. You are terrified of being lonely.
First question is: Are you so terrified enough to be desperate?
Honest answer: Maybe.
Next, this boy you like. When he's around you always want to be near him. You wish work was over so you can go home and see him. And as if you want to make sure he's there, you have to touch him. Didn't you say you like holding his hand?
Second Question is: If you take away the ability to touch, and if he doesn't feel warm to the touch, would you still seek him?
Honest answer: Maybe not.
Take away your illusions about him. Try to see him clearly, plainly. Look at his very essence. Do you like what you see? Do you see yourself living with those qualities?
Then the answer burgeons out. Sharp as swords.
No. He's not the One.
The answer is firm and solid. It came from somewhere sure. I didn't know I can be that sure. So what do I do now? After all the hullaballoo, what happens?
Do I return to the lackluster Olivia, who does not shine from within because she's not really in love pala? it's the greatest beauty implement, being in love. No wonder people get addicted to it.
But I don't want to be one of them. I need to retain my rational mind to balance the excesses of my emotions.
Now that I know the truth, I should feel like I've been set free. So why do I feel like I've imprisoned without hope of morning?
Shoot. What's the mantra again?
This too shall pass away. It better. And fast.