"ALL BECAUSE OF YOU" in "THE WORDPLAY WARRIOR: The Plot Pieces Called 'Life' "

  • Sept. 25, 2018, 9:25 p.m.
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  • Public

I hate how they keep telling me what to do. I hate how they always remind me about my age, my biological clock, anything that’s related to…

Anyway, I just hate it.

If you think I’m always so full of hatred, depressed, or anything dark like that – then you’re sadly mistaken. I still know how to be happy. There are times when I just am.

I know I’m still single. I know my age. I’ve been so good at being alone. So what?

I have a freelance job. I still hang out with my family. I have many good friends. I know whom I trust and whom I should leave behind. I know whom I should shut out for good.

“Why don’t you move on?”

Believe me, I’d like that too. I’ve decided and done some stuff just to speed up the process. I’ve made some changes in my life.

I’ve erased some files. Pictures, songs, poems…you name them. I’ve stopped writing and posting poems online for a while. I’ve attended support groups and therapy sessions. At least some of them are understanding enough and not so pushy. It takes time. Everyone goes through a different process. Some wounds heal faster, others take longer.

“You need to meet someone new. Open your heart. Give someone else a chance.”

“Who knows? You might be able to get over him.”

I don’t know what’s so bloody wrong with people sometimes. It sounds like an impossible quick fix.

Do I have the heart to treat someone clueless and innocent as a mere rebound? Why can’t one just be alone and deal with it first?

You can’t make the whole world understand you. I’ve stopped trying ages ago…


“Would you like to go out with me?”

He looked so sweet and sincere. Look, he was even smiling at me. How cute. Other girls would flip out and say yes.

I tried to breathe my answer out. The air around me started closing in. I was suffocating. My face began to warm. My eyelids felt heavy.

“I’m sorry.” There. I’d finally said it. “No.”


“I can’t.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

I shook my head and got up. I left him there, completely agape. I knew I was so mean to him. I didn’t even give him a chance.

They all looked like that at first. Nice, sweet, and convincing. After that, it would be “anything goes”.

I knew how many would judge me if they found out. They’d always blame me anyway.

“Are you crazy? He’s gorgeous and sweet. Why the hell did you turn him down?”

“You’re so mean. One date wouldn’t hurt.”

“So typical. You’re always so picky!”

Fine. It didn’t matter that they’d also known about you. The former muse of most of the poems I’d written in six months. The song in my heart. Who could’ve been a solid, living proof that not all guys were shallow creatures who were only into supermodels and Barbie-doll type. I mean, look at me. Society always finds a way to remind me about this.

That was before I’d learned the harsh truth about you. There were other women besides me. One came up with a tearful confession, then another and another. The similar lines in the chat histories. The same pet name. The same poems. The same songs and promises.
Before you finally blocked me for good and for no explanations at all.

I’ve got to admit, I’m relieved. I’m glad I’ve never let you get too close to me that I might bruise. That doesn’t mean you didn’t change me, though. I have – and I’m still cursing you for all of this.

So, they want me to believe in love again. Move on. Heal the pain.

Well, I’ve had my share of faith there. Now look what happened!


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