is it because I am lonely and in need of some TLC or is it because I truly love him? This question has been playing in my mind for a couple of days now…and still it plays…and if I do love him, would he take me back…again the question plays and echoes…and if he is willing, will it be for keeps this time…….the question plays and reverberates…who do I love then? the one who left or the one who I left…am I still in love with both or am I just in need of some TLC..

“Am I lovely and do you want me coz I am hungry for something that will make me real…Can’t you see me and do you love me coz I am desperate for searching for

something real…”

THE EX

Now I have an idea why people make such a big deal about exes. Y’know…stuff like, getting over the ex. Dealing with the ex. Being friends with the ex. Being the ex.

I am an ex.

I know that it’s stupid — and silly — to sound as if my whole life revolved around being somebody’s ex-girlfriend. But I can’t help it…that title packs a pretty

strong punch. I am now an official member of the “loved-and-lost” club. And while it’s a title I don’t exactly want, I have to admit that it does say some things about me.

I am an ex.

I once loved someone who loved me back. But he didn’t want to stay… So I had to let him go. I cried. A lot. I spent countless nights wondering what went wrong, muffling my sobs with my pillows so my parents wouldn’t suspect that something was amiss. I’d reminisce about our happy times, then break down when I’d realize that

he was no longer mine.

I analyzed every single detail of our breakup. I wrote long e-mails to my closest friends. I talked endlessly about my situation. I spent my nights in tearful telephone conversations and my days in daydreams where we’d end up in each other’s arms again. Sometimes he was still my angel, still my knight in shining armor who I’d do anything for just to have back. But sometimes, I saw him as the devil incarnate who broke my heart in the worst possible way, and who deserved to be horsewhipped at the very least. I told myself that it was all for the better. That

this was what was best for the both of us. That this was God’s plan. My friends offered similar advice, none of which I hadn’t heard before:

“It’s a sign that you’re not meant for each other,”

“When God closes a door, He opens a window,”

“Someone better is coming for you,” “There are so many other fish in the sea,” etc.

But it didn’t work. Because deep down, I still believed that he was the one,the only one. And I couldn’t understand how this was all for the better… when every day seemed more torturous than the last… not being able to be with him the way I

wanted to be, seeing him so unaffected, and dealing with my broken-and-smashed heart and my bruised ego.

I tried to immerse myself in other activities to forget about him. I went out a lot. I filled my schedule with movie marathons, shopping sprees, and Dance Maniax. It worked for a while… but then there were times — times when my mind was cleared of the busy thoughts I tried to occupy it with — that I would think of him. His memory would sneak up to me on tiptoes, catching me in my most vulnerable moments.

I tried to show the world that I was OK. That I was over him. That it was fine just being friends. I didn’t go around with a big “X” on my forehead, nor did I go around

with puffy eyes and a tissue box. I tried to live my life as I knew it before I met him. People thought that I was doing great. They heard me laugh and they saw me smile; I seemed happy, they said; and I told myself that I was. But in the solace of

my room, where I tried to organize my thoughts and sort out my feelings, I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t truly happy. Because I was still yearning for someone, and my heart still ached for something that could not be. It’s been over 1 year since we broke up,surprisingly, things have gotten better. I’ve changed. Somewhere along the way, I realized that he wasn’t the only one out there for me.

I also realized that there were valid, powerful reasons why we split up. And I’ve become stronger,older, wiser. He’s changed as well — when I look at him, sometimes I still see the boy I fell in love with. Sometimes I think that he’s the same person… he still has the same goofy smile and mischievous charm that fell for, and I like to believe that the rest of him is unchanged as well. But then I take a loser look and I realize that he HAS changed…that I don’t know him anymore, not really… not enough to love and care for him as I once did.

I am an ex.

I’ve loved and lost. I’ve cried tears for the things that were and that could have been. I’ve wrestled with intense feelings of love and hate, of jealousy, of frustration. I’ve simultaneously taken down and brought up my pride. I’ve tried to rebuild my world without the person whom it used to revolve around. I’ve tried to save myself from the depths of depression and self-pity, and when I couldn’t do that, I turned to God for help. I don’t know exactly what I gained, or how much I lost. Maybe someday it will be all clear to me… then again, maybe not.

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