Something Special

Maybe I was wrong when I said that my dad hadn’t come to the realization that I am deeply hurt.

Maybe he has. He refused to let me leave my seat until he had finished interrogating me about every minuscule detail of my life. Not one minuscule detail did I give in return, so he surrendered and cleared the table instead.

He knows something is wrong with Ariele and I, though he probably doesn’t know it is more serious than he might anticipate.

He and Ariel both shared a good relationship. A better one I have with him, I would admit.

I had initially been reluctant to bring her home to meet him. I didn’t see how two people, one who was the answer to all my misery, and another who was the main cause of them could possibly get along.

But she was persistent. “You can’t be sure of something until you see it actually happen” she said, and I was persuaded into it.

I was probably more nervous than she on the day of their first dinner together. I had closed him out of my life once I found out that there was no way he was going to support my dreams of becoming a violinist. I don’t need a father who won’t support me, I thought. And our relationship went sour henceforth.

The introduction of Ariele reopened my life to him- something I wasn’t very sure about, but I did it for Ariele. She believed it would somehow mend our relationship, and I wanted to believe her.

I wanted him to like her, I wanted him to approve, but more than anything, I wanted him to be impressed; impressed not only of her, but also of me for being able to do so well on my own.

As always, what she promised, she delivered. Dad loved her and saw it the best thing I’d ever achieved. I could say my relationship with him improved; she was one of his favorite topics, and I was more than willing to chip in my thoughts.

When Ariele left however, I once again closed him out of my world. There’s no reason to talk to him anymore. If anything, he simply makes it worse by reminding me of just how special she is.

Symptoms of Lunacy

It’s starting to hurt more than ever. When I first found out the news, I felt numb. No kidding, I know it sounds cliche and all, but that’s the only way I can describe it. Which I felt was odd. I remember thinking Hey wait a sec, shouldn ‘t it be hurting more?! But the numbness soon wore away, and all that’s left now is naked unadulterated pain.

It hurts more than I expected. I can’t get her off my mind, and the fact that I have based so much of my life around her, is what hurts most. I can’t believe how dependent I was of her, and now that we’re no longer together, I realise how stupid I was, and how much I’m going to miss her.

That’s the thing, you see. Because I was so dependent on her, everything I do now reminds me of her. I turn on the radio; oh that’s the song we laughed at when we heard it in my car. I think of my parents; the memory of her having dinner with my dad. I can’t even burrow my sorrows in playing the violin, because it reminded me of how I used to play the violin for her. She was the one who urged me to stand up for my dreams and she set my mind into coming a professional violinist. But now that we’re no longer together, what’s the point of having a dream she gave me, when she no longer loves me?

It’s the same with books. All books, movies, TV shows, they all have sappy love scenes which are there to taunt the less fortunate that they have no one to love. It’s pure torture just living.

Each morning, I wake up feeling somewhat alive, until I remember that Ariele is no longer mine. Then the nausea and longing hits. I wallow in self pity all day in the privacy of my bedroom. I’m surprised my dad hasn’t noticed that there is something seriously wrong with me yet.

Confessions of a Broken Heart

Life is difficult. I know I’ve said this countless times before and you probably think I am some sort of emotionally unstable lunatic, but that does not deny the fact that my life is indeed hard to deal with.

I guess another one of the reasons why I decided to keep a blog is because I have no one else to direct my misery to.

You see; if I did walk around telling the world of my woes, many would hastily jump to the conclusion that I am an “emo” who should be kept as far away from as possible. Sure, we shouldn’t be concerned about the way people view us, but I don’t want to add any more trouble to my already complicated life.

Although I admit that my mental wellbeing is rather rocky, I can assure you that I have no intention whatsoever of going down the road of suicide.

But that was beside the point. Like I mentioned above, I don’t open up to many, and not many actually care.

That was what I thought before I met Ariele though. Ariele is my ex-girlfriend who broke up with me just a few days ago. Needless to say, I am heart-broken.

Many deny that one can fall in love at this age. They say that you may think you are in love, but it is in fact an illusion you put yourself under. To me, love is love despite how old you are. Sure, I can see where the love-is-an-illusion theory is coming from, but I truly believe I love Ariele.

One of the many reasons that fuel my love for her is the fact that she is the first person to actually listen to me. Sure, there are many people who claim to be able to listen, but no one else can simply sit there and listen to me go on and on about my worries and make me feel better about them they way she does.

And now that I’ve lost her, the only way I can put myself out of insanity is through this blog. Or I could try to win her back, which I plan to do. It won’t be easy, but what have I got to lose?

Story of My Life.

I was thinking the other day, life can’t possible get any worse. Some time in the future, I will be able to look back and think I’m sure glad that’s over. But because I’m a worrisome creature by nature, I took into account the fact that I might not actually remember these events in my life in the future. Hence, the creation of this blog.

Purpose of this blog: to record the details of my seemingly complicated life.

My problems worsen as each day passes, and I have got to stop bottling everything up. So this blog will act as my well of memories, as I pour out my emotions and thoughts for the world to hear. And the whole world can hear for all I care.

So. Life. It’s a complicated thing, especially at this time of my life. My dad is going anal on me again about my future. He simply cannot accept the fact that I am passionate about music, and not medicine. According to him, music is unstable, unreliable, and not a possible career path. He is adamant that my future is in surgery, and surgery only. I don’t know what part of no he does not understand.

I believe I’ve made it quite clear that I detest medicine, but it bounces off him like… some bouncy rubber ball things. I should seriously consider living with my mum instead. I don’t even know why I put up with him.