Crying does not mean that you’re weak. It’s a normal coping mechanism especially after a loss of a loved one, after a heartbreak. It’s a manifestation of the pain that we feel.
[Pain.] (n.) highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury (or in my case, caused by love or the lack thereof). We try to avoid pain. It’s that one sensation that most (considering that there are sadists and masochists and people who just love pain) refuse to experience. It’s the feeling that traces its roots from negative experiences we’ve had. It’s a reminder of how we were emotionally tortured and hurt.
I don’t like pain. In fact, I hate it. Not the physical type of pain. I’m talking about the emotional type. You can treat physical pain. Just dab some ointment or take some painkillers, and you’re good to go. Emotional pain, on the other hand, is much harder to heal. It lingers and haunts you more than the body sore that you feel from playing volleyball or practicing karate. Yet it is something that comes to people a lot of times and in a very unexpected manner. It’s like a visit of the Hilton sisters in a party they were not invited to. It’s like a mystery box—not the good-stuff-filled kind but the shit- and grief-filled one.
Pain is like a very potent bottle of poison. You start by experiencing extreme difficulty in swallowing and a burning sensation in your throat. Then an unbearable stomach aches follow. Soon after, you’ll be vomiting. If that’s not enough suffering yet, you’d start getting vertigo and your blood pressure and pulse decreases. Your limbs would hurt like they’re being torn from your body. You’d also start getting more depressed and you’d think about your death. And after all these sufferings, you’d die. That’s what pain feels like. Not that I’ve experienced being poisoned, but I’m pretty sure you’d understand and get a picture of what pain feels like (if the description wasn’t vivid enough).
Just before the holiday season, I experienced pain once more. My boyfriend (who said he was not really boyfriend) broke up with me. It was poison. It was an unexplainable mixture of emotions—rage, fear, depression, guilt, loss, grief, and above all, pain that was exponentially multiplied.
It was totally unexpected. We were very happy together. Then we weren’t. Or at least he wasn’t. I know that he could be very unpredictable. He does things that surprise me (both in good and bad ways). What happened that day was a bad kind of surprise. I didn’t see it coming. Come to think of it, we had great, intimate sex before he broke up with me. After all those sweet kisses and long cuddles, he said he wants to stop seeing me. He said he doesn’t want commitments. He said he doesn’t really fall in love.
It was so painful and insulting. Have you ever experienced being used for or dumped after sex? If you haven’t, then you’re lucky and I hope you don’t get to try it. For those people like me who’ve tried it, you know the amount of pain I’m going through.
I was shattered after hearing all those words. At first, I didn’t want to believe any of it. I kept thinking that it was just a bad dream or a ridiculous joke. It felt so unreal. I was in shock—a charged shock. I wanted to ask him why he stopped loving me (if he actually loved me). I didn’t know what to do. There it was, I was poisoned.
It was very hard for me, but I had to face reality. He doesn’t want me anymore. He wants freedom. He wants his life back. And even if I wanted to stop him, I couldn’t. I’m not someone who comes in the way of what people want. I’m not the kind of person who controls the relationship or a person. I’m the kind of person who lets the other person enjoy his life and live it the way he wants. You can say that I’m a modern day martyr, and I got a taste of my own poison.