Posts Tagged ‘breakups’

It’s kind of late in the evening to be hanging out at Alberto’s on weekdays, but it’s such a starry night to miss. The wind is blowing just right and the moon is shining brightly. I guess the Sea Goddess is having a ball. Such a romantic tune from an acoustic guitar is serenading between the backdrops of the waves. That serene moment is lurking which is so rarely come to existence.

There’re people all around me tonight, not a bad night for business. Tables are full with happy faces in small groups, dining with friends or love ones, on holiday. Temporarily forgetting the life routines with no cares in the world, spending rupiahs, and feeling like Kings and Queens on the upper hand of the dollar value. Life’s a heaven my friend, as long as you are traveling in the less fortuned countries instead of your mighty developed one.

Feeling like in a holiday myself. Hanging out at café anytime the urge arises. Going through the daylight hours in an office where works are not the burden, with colleagues whom are the blessed from heaven. Salary’s enough for spending in a reasonable luxury. Living in my closed up world, in my own made believe routine. No hassle, if not provokes by those efforts of self-induced tantrum. What more can a girl ask for?

In fact, a lot more I should admit. All is combined into a one whole package, of love. For whatever it means and whatever forms it may manifests. A special someone to call my own, to share moments with, be there with through all the life’s ups and downs. Is it too much to ask? I wonder. Thus, question never meets the answer’s eye and this hollowness inside despite the cheerful and tomboyish outlook on life still sustains deeply. Peeking out once in a while, once provoked by memory, reverie, love song or some romantic movie or book. This silly old heart keeps reminding that wiser brain about something, which is not, yet in place. Yet, every time the logic mechanism will waltz in, acting on in a referee’s shoe, setting back the equation into balance, soothing the emotions ripples, sending provable and solid facts, till’ finally there’ll be one missing heartbeat, a slowed-down rhythm and once again day begins and ends normally.

Indifference, with the provoking long lasting taste of bitterness, is lingering in the background. The backdoor man is standing guard, making sure there is not a slightest ray of souls float by. When it broke through once or twice, lust was in domain instead of love.

Still a remedy is found in this state of indifference. It’s proclaiming that life can be so much fun by simply pushing back the thoughts. It works all the time with only one down fall of recurrence, a flashback. Every now and then, this medicine needs to be reinforced to reach that state again, sweet indifference with a bit of bitterness for an aftertaste.

Laughing and being gay, are the essential ingredients. Go out fishing for fish, fishing for squids, feeling the sea breezes at sunset, no need for waking up for sunrise – it’s inducing an opposite effect – undesirable, absorbing splashes of sea water on my lips and blink again and again when they catch the eyes – enjoy – it’s a preferable substitute for those forbidden tears, climbing the mountain in reach – it works the body and spirit in shape for the road of courage and bravery. Endurance is that sweet elixir for a limbo state of mind. Laughing and being gay pour up those most inner feelings to those with willing ears and or use all the charms to will those unwilling. Days will pass feathery; weeks will change into months and years, resulting in a wider circle of so-called close friends. The most valuable lifesavers, unsubstitutable, whom can be easily reached by emails, wherever I might crash and make that a so-called home, temporarily before those spur of moment relocations stormed in.

Best advice of all, is to follow that happiness craving in small portion at a time. As big portion will never come and if it does, be careful, delirious might most likely be the effect. Just settles for the act of living tomorrow worry for tomorrow journey as today possess its own load and there’s always that damn slight possibility that tomorrow will never take its existence. A wise lady once said and believe it still, if you are following this stream of consciousness you will recognize her words, “Rise up like a phoenix, unharmed and be even more graceful yet tough. It will never matter what was your previous state of wreckage, once you have found that courage to reincarnate, you will be whole again, better than ever.”

Simple sweet things in life are precious and rarer than the dinosaur’s skulls. They require less digging to unearthed, less science mapping to discover, less geological knowledge to classify. Yes, they are truly harder to notice in this buzzing indifference and yet once the brainwaves radar took in those blinking red dots, the heart will classify them easily and store them dearly in a special slot. Once in awhile, those are the fuel used to grease up ones life’s wheel. Turning the cycle back into a jazzy rhythm, sliding back to ease, breathe in and relax. The world goes round and rainbow rays are still decorating the sky just like the first in Noah’s ancient one. The sight of that spurs of colors across the grandiose sky, is the only thing and the closest thing to a permissive dream and hope.

Remembering oneself, most of all. Once you have gained that control, nothing is able to pull you down too far. Beware. Indifference is not equal to being death of all senses. It is a selective indifference in practice that I am aiming for. Keeps me sane, keeps me writing this. And in the light that people might take us lightly, pardon me, but let’s give them the finger, the one in the middle, I am referring to, mind you. Things that I have worked for, this castle that I have built stone by stone, all the principles that I hold higher than religion, made a version of a being I am today. Yes, this selective indifference is legally prescribing a finger for those unlucky ones whom this heart labeled as lower than dandruff. It is authorized to be used perfectly with whom I do not hate but despise as a being with unprogrammed personality worth created. Remembering oneself, most of all. Reconsidering the whole effort for being the one, I am today. So, be prepared finger, and sincerely hoping overtime is not required. Just to be on the safe side when heaven and hell actually is a proven verity.

Once in awhile let that combination of heart and soul guides the actions instead of those brain cells and logic. As long as the conscience is capable of taking in all the consequences, float away, why not. Especially, in the case of one of those special kind of lust, where a common ground and interest is in view, when emotion is stronger than pride or ego – which is rarely happening in reality – with all the five or even six senses cry out in “Aye”, dive in the deep water. Trust and have faith on those tiny cells, motherboard will kick in and throw that lifesaver which or whom will keep you afloat again eventually. Hold on to those feelings, those simple things in life. Open all pores, breathe in those sweet sensations of another soul, so near, so close at hand. Linger with a big smile, be willy-nilly, and count the daisy. Having a warm body next to yours is a damn handy for a 3 a.m. bedtime story session to lull you to your dreamless sleep. Believe in the human instincts. Forget commitment, don’t mind planning, there’s nothing to it. Don’t make any blueprint. Don’t release those air balloons filled with hopes and attached with promises. A borrowed time and moment is enough to save the day. Return them to the owner promptly, don’t evoke problem with those mobs. The good ones are always taken if they are not they are classified under the “Missing Links.” The bad nuts are not worth discussing.

Remember this heart and soul act is only allowed to perform just for the sake of sanity. Small dose is more than enough for going back to the logic track. Eventually, the turn of time will knock some senses in mother earth’s plan for yours truly. With the big bang repeating, the force of universe will be collating heart, soul, brain cells, and logic in one major momentum. And, love will finally manifest its meaning before ones very own eyes, revealing before its many masks, in its first baby suit from heaven, matching all the questions to answers and the odyssey ends once and for all.

Behold. That is a version of a fairytale like ending. From a complicated and curious mind set such as this, there’s also another popped up question about the existence of a soul mate. The wonder of it all, if the other person’s soul is the genuine half of the other half then they should be born at the same date, exact same hour down to the exact same millisecond. And with a rapid leap of technology, there will be a time when locating one another is surely not a quest.

But then again, there might be a chance, and most likely, there definitely is, that heaven has a huge storage room for all those halved souls, with no clear instruction and timing, decent maps nor blueprints for sending them out to the universe. Thus, the “Where’s Waldo?” case syndrome is the most common occurrence. This is the version of a non-fairytale like ending.

Free will, free choice, my friend. Select the appropriate button on your life screen and live with it. Making whoopees is not always the result. That’s all.


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A/s/l plz?

38/female/Indonesia. Urs?

You have a web cam?


OK, ciao.




Do you have pics?

Check my profile.



I saw your profile, you are very pretty. I like you feet.

Say what? Feet?

Yeah…. very sexy.

Oh, OK thanks, bye.


Do you want to see mine? I got a web cam?

No thanks.

I am horny, how about you?

Sorry, not interested.



(Me, clicking ignore button)


Hi! I haven’t seen you on line for ages. How are you, baby? I miss you.

Oh hi, really? You actually miss me?

Yeah sure.

Bla bla bla ….

Another satisfying night on line? Not quite.

How could you actually miss someone that you never even meet and do not really had a truly meaningful conversation with? After all the small talks about nothing within a specific soul connecting topic, nothing in the level of sharing life stories, just mindless chatting about superficial mundane subjects, could you actually really miss the person? Or, is it just the matter of seeing a person that you had conversation with, any type of conversation with, on line? Knowing that if you are bored from surfing the net and hoping to find other more interesting on-liners, at least you have someone to type words to? Moreover, what is it about “baby” or “sweetie” or “honey” as a substitute greeting, as name is forgettable and difficult to keep track of? Unimportant, insignificant, like the person on the other side of the screen? Honey, you sure look beautiful! Maybe, miss, is actually a word been abused here. Do you miss snow, for example? You have seen the pictures, know about the funs associated with it, a bit history of the formation, very interested to see it with your own eyes one of these days, but you have been living in a tropical country most of your life? Possible? Maybe. Funny, I miss fondue, but seen it and taste it before. The same? Maybe.

What a small world indeed! True. Find your perfect match. Chat with anyone from all over the world. Your soul mate is out there. Be a premium member, post your picture(s);  increase your chance to be noticed.

Do I really want to chat with people all over the world to find a soul mate? Increase my chance to be noticed? Therefore, what then? Happily ever after? Do I need the emotional rush every time that virtual kiss from a good looking opposite sex waiting inbox? You got mail! Do I need that slight disappointment which only has a few days life span when emails or that yellow smiley face next to the name always seem to be in white? Why do I even bother? Why do I seek someone “real” on internet? Hello!?! Anyone? Brain left and grey substance stay at home? Anything more virtual than this? Star Trek – the next voyage.

Someone “real”, that’s actually a strange definition. Real in personality or real in flesh and blood? Those are the two things that could not be sent down the telephone line, could they? Someone to share thoughts with. The other person does not even have the chance to see how you really perform in daily basis. They could not find out if you are a loser in life. Or that time when you lost your cool and scream bloody murder. Or that you bloated like a blow fish in the name of stress and loneliness. Or that you burp or fart like everyone else, considering when it does happened in the privacy of your solitary confine it is human but when in public is a no no?

How could someone be “real” without entering your daily life? How can someone could be considered as your lifeline when you talk about the experience of sinking a week after you drown? How could someone ever actually give an objective opinion when things happen around you in a very complex tenure, which puzzled even yourself as the actor? The other person could always be there for you if you need someone to talk to, yes true, if the other person has a life worth living, glued to the screen always, it is not actually a good indication of one’s life quality, isn’t it?

The leap of technology. It’s a small world after all. The ultimate connection of all the lonely people all over the world. In the name of hope, fun, passing the time, widen ones social horizon, all boil down to one single thing, companion. The craving need to fill that empty space that “real” daily life could not provide.


Hi this is Matt from Alaska, single, 40, glad I find you on line. I saw your profile and would really like to get to know you more. Do you have time to talk?

Hi Matt, sure.

So how are you? I see that you into old jazz songs, me too. Which one is your old time favorite?

Moonlight in Vermont. Yours?

Really? What a coincidence, mine too. Have you ever listen to the BB King’s version of it?

YES!!!! Nicely done with blues rhythm. Can’t believe you like that song too.

Bla bla bla

(3 hours later)

It’s been really nice talking to you. I hope we could do this sometime soon.

Ditto, Matt. Can’t believe we have been chatting for more than 3 hours.

Yes, time fly when you are having fun, right. You should get some sleep. It must be about 3 am there.

You’ve been updating the international time zone for my part of the world I see  : )

That’s why I want you to get some zzzzz….. It’s very late there. I’m glad that I caught you on line.

Me too. What time is it there?

Around 10 AM, Saturday morning.

Oh, you wake up very early on a Saturday. Daily habit?

The truth? I was awake too early on weekend and couldn’t get back to bed. So I thought that I log on to see if you are on line. And, what do you know. You are!

(Thinking … this guy is too good to be true, spooky ……… no wild Friday night with a hangover type too) Well, I’m glad that you didn’t decide to try harder to doze off again.

Yes, “what a difference a day makes” surely has a new meaning to me today

Natalie Cole’s version hhahhah (smiling from ear to ear)

(30 minutes phase of goodbye later)

So I see you next Saturday same time same place then.

I like that.

Sweet dreams, I’ll email you during the week.

Bye Matt, have a relaxing day and take care.

Nite nite Sarah, you take care too and I’ll see you in a while.

Still smiling from ear to ear. Logging off and shutting down windows. See you in a while? Eh, hold on. It’s just a matter of speech. There’s surely nothing to it. On line friendship, ok that’s not something that is too much to ask. “Real” companionship? Relationship? Marking a family tree together? Adding another surname behind my own? That’s absolutely ha ha. Different time zone, different sphere of the planet, different culture, different language – just imagine mom, she will be an all smiley face in-law with exotic foods on the table and never be a shopping partner to the in-law. Do I really want this mix? Why am I even thinking about this possibility? This is surely not a possibility anyhow. Give this Matt chap and me a few weeks. Then it’s only gonna be me and this “Mad” guy that I use to chat with. Hallelujah. God have mercy!

And sure enough, I have never seen that Matty guy online anymore…

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Can’t believe I have been in a relationship with another “false attempter” that life got to offer. They are just a few in any universal count, but significantly numerous in my lifetime a count of 15 or so years search. The seemingly good intenders, whether it was 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 months or 3 years of their lingering process, one by one they let go of my hand, the journey take a sudden halt, and once again I am here. Alone. Daze. Looking around me and ask unbelievably, “That’s it?” Nobody seems to be around anymore for me to even ask for any further questions, silence. It’s just me now. Someone has just letting go of my hand. Why? Someone has just freeze another chunk of my heart. I do wonder how big of a heart that I have to withstand all these frostbites; the past’s, the present’s and the future’s.

39 minutes 45 seconds and counting, uh ah uh ah uh ah. This is a rough day testing the endurance. My heart is sinking with every breath that I take. Flashes of memory pieces dive in and out on the big glass window. My body works on its own mechanical wonder and my brain seems to have even bigger boaster, fuel on emotional turmoil. In a race, somehow the later can’t ever seem to find its switch.

The traffic and buildings outside are glazing away; I’m standing alone on my familiar hill, high above looking over the raging ocean below. A single old wrinkled Banyan tree is standing against the wind, grasses green as any eye can see dotted with small yellow daisy ankle high soft on my bare foot. Blue sky slowly turning its skin to a darker shade, patches of clouds closing in on the bright sunlight, slowly turning into grey threatening rain on the horizon creeping ever so slow. I can see my hand, outreaching, trying to grab the passing wind, by some means it seems to have a life of its own. Separating from my body, which is numb in its existence, housing heartbeats that are out of rhythm. I am here, waiting, for something that never seem to materialize. A sense of loss, a sense of disappearing self, a sense of fatality, which rooted deep as deep as my understanding of being. I am here, piercing through the air over to the distance water. Hopes, dreams, those forbidden thoughts that are all suppressed in reality, grow wild with the daisies on this hill. I am here, free to scream and shout, free to let go, free to build, stone by stone, my castle, stone by stone, almost at the same rate as it was destructed, again and again. But, I am still here, standing, alone, the Banyan is still standing, the wind is still blowing, my hill is still here. I am ever lost, yet, I am here, holding on, taking root like the old Banyan.

Slowly, I’m melting further, a little girl sitting on the front door step, crying in silence, an old German shepherd close at her knees. She rest her weary soul on his head, her small arms enveloping him, drawing all the warm and comfort that her little heart can absorb. Brawling from the end of the back corridor, Ma and Pa, their voice rises in the heat of the afternoon sun. I am here, playing back the too familiar scenes, of both of them standing facing each other, armed with whatever domestic tools that they could find, funny, you would never imagine a bug pump-spray is designed handy for human defender or human offender tool. Ma is angry, tears are running down her face, her hair wild, her voice is wilder. Pa was caught ‘handling’ the maid. The maid is nowhere to be seen. Pa is furious, his strong arms flagging in threat, his face turn to Neanderthal expression, and his voice is even wilder than Ma’s. My stone step is the farthest spot that I can go, for now. It’s not safe, it doesn’t protect me, it doesn’t hide me, and it doesn’t take me away. I am waiting, waiting for the neighbor to open their window and see me here. I am waiting, waiting for the Mum next door to come and take me in her house. I am waiting, waiting for the Mum next door to hold me in her arms, and telling me that everything is going to be fine. I am waiting, waiting for the Mum next door to tell me how a brave pretty little girl I am, that a such as I am, doesn’t cry, God loves strong, brave pretty little girl, and I am one of these girls that God creates to be special, who find happiness and good fortune when she grows up, someday. I am this little girl, strong, brave, pretty, with kind heart and life will be kind.

I am a grown up now, and I am still waiting. I do not know whether I am still strong and brave; the Mum next door is long gone. No one is telling me I am a strong, brave, pretty, kind and that life is just going to be fine. My brain is telling me I am strong, the mill is telling me that I am able to burn 159 calories so far. Uh ah uh ah uh and still counting up.

Slowly, a potato KiwiStag01 flies by approaching the big glass window, I look down at the mill’s placard trying to avoid his gaze. The writing is still in small print, only “Warning” in big enough letters. The stop sign circularly red is so attempting for me to press down. “Warning” I read again, I am still walking as fast as I can, swinging my arms back and forward, still trying to avoid his gaze. But, he taps on the glass and I have to look up. He says, “I’m happier without you than with you.” Smile indifferently while chewing on a chocolate chips cookie. “So, NO,” he stresses on the no, “I don’t want you in my life. Between the continuum of Love You and Love You Not, I am placing myself nearest to the Love You Not scale. I can’t see a future with the two of us in it. This is the end of the road. I am sorry that I hurt you, but I am not sorry for letting go.” He flutters his wings, and hover from side to side, looking at me like nothing happen, like it’s a matter of fact, like telling me the weather condition outside under the tropical sun is sunny, bright, 30 degree Celsius, mild wind. Then, he is gone. Gone from the window and gone in every sense of existence. He lets go of my hand, both in my vivid imagination, and in the reality of my every waking moment.

My legs turn weary, exhaustion creeps in, and my finger runs itself to the stop red button, while the warning sign seems to get bigger with each second past. I crash, in a pile on the mill, my head spinning, my heart racing, my sweats running down blending with my cascading tears. The line between my imagination and my vivid surrounding smudged collapsing into one another. I lost grip of myself, I lost grip of my sense of being. In a pile, I stay, shaking, wrapping my arms around my knees. My brain yells in protest, “Sarah! Sarah! Snap out of it! Sarah! Get a hold of yourself! Sarah! Now! Move on! Move on!” I am still here, in a pile on the mill. “Sarah… Sarah…” a strong hand on my shoulder shocks me back to the living, Noval, the Personal Trainer, “Are you ok?” asks him in alarm. “Yes … yes, I’m ok, just fainted for awhile there, I missed breakfast this morning, I’m ok now,” toweling my face to wipe away sweat and tears, I answer in small voice, probably non-coherent to him but that is the only thing that I can master now and try to stand up leaning on his arms. The wiggly hamster still crumples in pile, on the treadmill that I just step out from, still with tears cascading silently from her eyes, hugging her body close to herself.

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You are the only person that I thought I can count on; I can run to, whenever I feel miserable. You are the only person that I am counting on to bring joy in my daily life. The only interesting thing for me is to receive a loving message from you, those words the only thing that keep me going daily. I look for it every day and I wait for it every day and it brighten my day knowing that I am not alone and you are there caring for me. Only words, but it makes wonder in my world.

My life is crappy and I badly need comfort. I tried to run to you for comfort, sometimes you are busy, so I wait. I still need comfort, you are still busy, so I wait some more. I still longing to find comfort in you, caused you are the only one that I have and matter. Why I keep pestering you for extra attention, caused you are the only one that I have and I thought can be my source of comfort daily. Even only through online messages.

So I wait, but when the loving gestures didn’t come, and you don’t even know that I need you so badly, I am feeling hurt and very left out. I wait when you were busy, when you are free, you don’t come to me, you have others things to do and have fun. Of course, you are allowed to have fun. But, what about me? I am still waiting to be comforted. The more I wait and the more I feel you never come around, I feel so silly to keep wanting to find comfort in you. You said you care, but from this end all I feel that I am waiting, waiting and if I tried to make a scene, you slam the door, and I am left alone again, still lost and still looking for comfort.

Every time I try to confront you with this feeling, instead of your understanding and your comfort, I get a rebuke. No matter how over reacted my attack, the bottom line is all I need is comfort and loving care. I need justification of my feeling. When I run to you, you feel attacked (which I did attack) and you do not see anything else and do not hear anything else except my attack (seeking your attention by attacking you, I know, I don’t know how else).

You need justification that you don’t do anything wrong, justification of why I attacked you, so unreasonably attacking you. You need justification. You slam the door, until I can give you that justification. In the process, I am left alone again, still feeling as miserable as ever, no justification for me, not from my own conscience. I do need my justification, I need my comfort, and I need someone treating me lovingly. I don’t have anyone else but you. But you need justification of my attack, slam the door; leave me alone to lick my wound. My life is still crappy, I am still miserable. I thought I can find my comfort in you.

Connected with you daily, is the only thing that get me through my day. It is very important to me to know that someone do care and feel it strongly in my heart. You still don’t understand after all this time that I count on you for emotional stability? Am I so wrong to expect this? Is it truly a burden to give me this daily comfort that I have to beg for it? Do you need me to beg? How do I do that? I think by writing this down is already humiliating enough for me. You still do not understand where I am coming from? You still do not understand why I run to you for comfort? What other justification that you need more beside I know that I attacked you? For the reason above this for me is very clear.

You think that I am looking for problems in our relationship? There is only one problem; I need you as my source of daily comfort. You are the only one that I have. But, you do not think that understanding that I need that is important and such you don’t think it’s a big deal to give me that comfort. I know you have everything else in your life; I am just a fraction of it. But, you are a big chunk in mine. Can you understand that?

If after all this said and done, you still do not understand why I react the way I do. What do you want from me?

That’s my latest email to him, which he never replies to. I never know why he never replies to my emails whenever we had a fight and because I can’t have him for a face to face conversation, I wrote all what crosses my mind, all that I feel in writing and email it to him. Silence. Even when we finally made up and on a speaking term again, he never response to my writings.

Speaking of which, we are not in contact these days. He needs time to think.

“I can come there anytime. It’s just the matter of arranging for the visa and permit. Whether we submit the partnership application at the embassy here or in Wellington; that’s a matter that we can discuss later. I can be there with a holiday visa sponsored by you. Hon, the bottom line that I want to hear from you is; do you want me there? Do you want a life with me? Things will be difficult for us at the start; do you think you can afford me until I can find myself a job?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think.”

“What do you mean by you don’t know?”

“Exactly it, I don’t know.”

“… Hon, you don’t know whether you want me or not? What is your heart saying? If you don’t know whether you love me and want me by now, what other kind of answer that you’re searching for?”

“It’s not that simple, it’s not black and white. I don’t know. I need time to think.”



“How long do you want me to wait for you? A day, a week, a month, a year, what?”

“Give me two weeks.”

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