Guidelines on Chasing Airplanes, Cars, Muses, and Women Too Aloof

[This is an old post from my Facebook notes posted on May 11, 2011]

This is what you can call the exploits of a hopeless romantic; who, at times, is not so hopeless.

Enter: me.

Yes, me.

Or for all intensive purposes, since you're reading this, Kit.

These are rules inspired by the random videos that I've seen, the ones that were shown to me by Bones today, and all the fucked up things that happened, which I bet was not limited only to me.

I know someone will laugh when I say that I've only loved four girls/ladies/women in my life.

Or maybe [pronoun] wouldn't. [pronoun] won't see this anyway.

These four would be:
The Queen,
The Princess,
The Fairy,
and The Lady.

Rule 1: Maybe they're just too nice -- Don't fall for/like [pronoun] too much.
Just becase you like the person, it doesn't mean that whatever that person has done towards or for you means that he/she likes you back.
The Queen was someone I met in the younger years of my life. No, not grade school young. She was, in every sense, my first and last case of love at first sight. My heart used to go haywire everytime I saw her.
Used to.
She cared for me like no other person ever had since I met her; and she'd fuss over things that only mothers probably would -- It came to a point that she even almost forbade me to ride a skateboard.
As the rule states, I assumed that she looked at me the same way as I did to her; after all those notes exchanged, those phonecalls that never seemed to have ended, the nightmares that she had, the promises that we made but never kept, and the hopes that I had that were, as it turned out, all for naught.
In the end, I realized that she was just being nice. And that she couldn't tell it to me, who seemed like her bestfriend, in fear of tearing me apart -- which led to me being torn apart a tad too many times.
It was all because I didn't follow..

Rule 2: Do not assume; Do not expect.
When two people say "I Love You" to each other, it means they have a relationship, correct?
Fuck no.
Well, The Queen and I used to say those words to each other. I said it from the depths of my heart, where hers came from is beyond me.

Rule 3: The line is there, you just don't see it.
I've come up with a little thing that I call the Tri-Boundaries of Relationships.
The first boundary is the Acquaintance boundary. As in, you just know that person. You've nothing to do with them at all, except for social and educational dealings. No problem here.
The second boundary is the Relationship Potential boundary. When you find yourself looking at someone you've looked at so many times in a different way, you're probably here. It's when you check out a person if [pronoun] suits your fancy or if you're willing to conform to [pronoun].
The third boundary is the Sibling boundary, wherein you guys just can't go there anymore. You're past the point to have any attraction between you.
Shitstorms usually come when you're in between the second and third boundary. You're often stuck to yourself wondering where you really are, or if that person looks at you as someone on their second boundary zone.
I found myself in these shitstorms with The QueenThe Fairy, and The L-- well, not so much.

Rule 4: [Pronoun] has no right, You have no right.
Face it. You like [pronoun]. And [pronoun] probably likes you too. But then, there can also be other parties involved in your blossoming relationship. The fucked up things in these situations spring out when you have a fit with [pronoun]. You more or less tend to veer off your path and look for someone else -- [pronoun] is also entitled to do the same. But you know what you can't do?
You can't be jealous.
Heh. Sucks, right? Well deal with it. You don't have any right to be jealous, and [pronoun] has no right to be jealous unless you either give [pronoun] the right to be, or you have some form of twisted agreement, which is, seriously, a relationship already. I mean, who the fuck are you kidding.
I remember the times I had with The Princess, when she and I had a fight when we weren't together yet; I ended up going out with this freshman in my team. Which was short-lived.

Rule 5: 1x, 2x, 3x, 4-- WTF.
A song from Forever the Sickest Kids says that 'She's a lady, and ladies' shouldn't be messed with'. I should've listened to Jonathan Cook when he said that. The Lady was not someone I messed with. She was, after all, my first attempt to have a relationship after I switched schools.
Obviously, she and I had our differences. I was... well. I lived a different life.WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY more different than what lives her friends lead.
I tried to conform though.
One thing led to another, and soon enough, after all the cheesy lines, surprises, and glances followed by smiles that could probably beat Joker's, we had a fight an arguement. Well, more like a fight.
After that fight, things cooled down. In what seemed like no time, we were back with what we were, only that things were kind of... awkward.
Long story short, since then, everything went downhill. I probably should've done more than I did, but meh, there are times when you really doubt yourself whether or not what you're doing is even getting through to the person you like (or in my case, love. Yeah, stupid me.) I tried to patch things up and get things right back on track, but after three tries, I felt like what I was doing was too much.
It was just all me from then. I couldn't get to her.
So I left. I gave up. I moved on.
Sort of.

Rule 6: Denial is not only a river in Egypt
There comes a time when you're not so into that person anymore.
And yet, you still are.
Fucked up, yeah?
Nope, not so much.
It's you, not [pronoun]. If you've fallen, or if you feel like it's something more than a crush, FOR FUCK'S SAKE DON'T PRETEND THAT IT'S NOT THERE. Same goes when you're not so interested with that person, too.

Rule 7: There are more Airplanes, Cars, Muses, and Women (or Men) Too Aloof out there. Go get 'em, tiger.
'Nuff said.
Like my beloved Pancakes has told me time and time again, there's no point getting stuck on someone for too long.
You can drink like an Irish man, smoke like there's no tomorrow, get fucked up like the rapture's near (like fuck it is.), but get over the person. It's a wide world out there, and you never really know who you'll meet or end up with in these lives that we're living in.
So yeah. 

Go get 'em, Tiger.


Consider yourself one of my best friends/Consider yourself one of my enemies

It's been ages since I've last written anything akin to my thoughts in this somewhat barren blog of mine. Despite the desolate solace that it offers for both my mind, my thoughts, and more often times than I would like, my heart, I feel like what I try to keep at bay is slowly seeping through the cracks of my psyche.

As of late, my time is preoccupied of thoughts I know I could never afford to think of, yet my brain insists that I do. Even in the midst of things such as my internship, my cat, and throes of bipolar moments, I find myself constantly thinking.

Thinking of her.

and also thinking of her.

I should know better. I've been through what I could somewhat deem the worst, yet here I am still struggling against the unending torrent of beautiful disasters that comprises my life. I know that all this thinking will get me nowhere, and all the hopes that are stored well within where light cannot reach, will bear me no good deed.

I should know better.

But I don't. and I never do. Nor do I believe that I will in the near future. She does not like her. In fact, I suppose a lot of people that are around me don't like her because of all the smoke and mirrors that have happily erected themselves around the topic that was whatever we were -- if there ever was a name for whatever that transpired between us. On the other hand, she has no idea of the existence of her; or so I think.

Somehow, in this twisted, malignant, out-to-personally-get-me-and-screw-my-life-a-thousand-times-over universe, I still cannot begin to fathom as to why I give an actual fuck about her. She is almost out to get her, just because of me -- yet somehow, I worry for her.

The worst part is I still actually care about her. She doesn't know I do, and I'd rather that it stays like so.

I don't know. It's probably just me creating a fail-safe, trampoline to land on since I know very well that no matter how close I come with her, I know in my soul that I am no longer an option for her -- and she, to me as well. I suppose that line was crossed seven years ago, and that I am just merely chasing after ghosts that never really got to haunt anything substantial other than my ailed, multi-emotional heart. They were merely shadows cast father than they should have been, as the light of the stage of the life of the woman whose story never has an ending drops lower and lower, casting shadows far taller than their masters.

I can never choose her. Each time I have, I'm left with shards that gradually decrease in size as each chapter draws to a close between her and I. The last thing I need are shards far too small to piece back together again.

As for her, I can't quite muster the correct words to utilize in this particular moment, to enlighten whoever is reading, I suppose I could just say that I never had a decision to make to begin with. She was, in a sense, a tornado in her own right. I suppose I could say I was just helplessly dragged into her own little universe filled with things that are sometimes far too complex for my own.

Or maybe I jumped into the fray. Maybe.


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