One year ago today, I was thankful for being part of, at that point, a relationship that was going strong for two years. She had recently moved in with me two months prior, sharing every night with each other, waking up next to her and kissing her forehead before heading to work. It was just seven months ago that she told me she fell out of love with me, and that catapulted me into a two month long chase, as she experimented (for a lack of a better description) with someone else. And in that last month, I found myself on bended knee, asking this girl to marry me. She rejected. Coldly. She was willing to throw away everything we’ve been through, that we built on my blood, sweat and tears (yea, my) for a physical fling.

It was just five months ago that, for the first time in my life, I met someone who I thought checked all the check boxes of what the perfect girl for me would be like. Smart, caring, determined, strong, independent, a survivor of her own past. Someone who saw my broken wings, despite my futile attempt to hide them behind a smile and spent effort mending them. For the first time in my life, I was so sure she was my soulmate. Getting to know her more and more made me know myself more, or rather question what I knew and what I believed in. It didn’t help that she lived on the complete opposite side of the world, nor did it help on her many attempts to ghost me. But I was always fine with playing a background role in her life. Even if I felt she was my soulmate, someone who completes me, it doesn’t necessarily mean I had to claim her as mine. Whatever capacity. Always. And like a fool, I fell in love, deeply. This unrequited love didn’t hurt me, again, whatever capacity. But she questioned my love. As if it was fake, as if I was confused.

I wasn’t. I knew. I understood. I felt. I was. Wholeheartedly.

It was just two months ago that I unexpectedly started having feelings for one of my closest friends. Having a heart torn to shreds, then repaired piecemeal and then abandoned, just how much more suffering was I suppose to endure? And this was all self inflicted. Can’t I just be alone? If my “soulmate” was the calm before the storm then this girl was the hurricane that blew me away. I recovered quickly with her. It was as platonic as it could get. When another guy came into the picture, it was then I realized I stepped over a line I drew in the sands four months prior. I kept myself this time from going down the same path. As I’ve said before, same shit, different scripts.

And here I am, wondering if I should be thankful for this year of experiences. I went from daydreaming about my future, planning things out to now wondering where will this tumultuous ride take me.

Im confused.

I want to but I shouldn’t.
I need to but I can’t.
How much is too much? How much is too little?
When is it too soon? When is it too late?
Why must everything be a dichotomy of tragic endings for me?
Wrong time, wrong place. It always is, isn’t it?

In the end, I AM thankful. I’m alive right now. I have the ability and choice to write this blog, as broken record and messy as it can be. That I still can make my decisions. That yeah, Im broken, still, and maybe for a while but, I can be repaird. That each time I wake up in the morning, I know that I can take even more steps to be truly happy.

One step. Two steps. Repeat.

I dont think it’s ever possible to shut myself out from the world. Despite my best efforts to do so, I can’t just hide in the shadows. Because it seems like each time I do, some light seems to break through.

You.