The Momentum of Conundrum

I can sum up my life in three words -- no more.

"Work, workout and eat clean."

I've been living the life of an almost-recluse for as long as I remember. This is the story.

Last Christmas eve, I met Calvin. Someone who was really into me and purused me relentlessly. Then on one fine night, he kissed me and I didn't push him away. That was how he started saying we're in a relationship. Seriously.

That week, because my time was pretty much occupied by him, I strayed from Carl for a good while. We didn't talk for days, we didn't even seen each other for a while. For clarification's sake, I was trying to move on and heeding what they say about getting a rebound to do so. It worked! On the surface that is, God knows how much I was beating for Carl deep down in my heart during those times with Calvin.

Calvin and I didn't work out. Turns out he was an arrogant prick who couldn't care more about people around him besides himself. I should have noticed the signs. Who the fuck blew up his own picture in A3 size, framed and hanged it up on the wall? Who the fuck put together a collage of photos of himself on another wall? I was a little taken aback when I first went over to his place but I thought to myself that it's pretty common to love yourself this much especially after you've had all the achievements under your belt. But no. It's fucking not fucking common. Narcissism was what echoes day in and out at his place, bounces off the four walls and onto the windows then ricochet off the door. He took narcissism to a whole new level. And to think I thought I was pretty narcissistic. He put people who love taking selfies to shame.

When I ruminated over this mistake of mine, I understand why the Universe has planned for Calvin's existence in my life. He was here to help Carl and I move on. What was I thinking? Carl and I broke up a year ago and for the entire year, I had the both of us stuck at the same spot. It wasn't working out. He just wants out and I kept him around in hope that he'd change his mind. Which he never did. I imprisoned the both of us for a year. On a selfish note, I had successfully plonked a huge boulder on my life path.

You know, I miss Carl a damn lot but at the same time, I am fucking mad at him for having me replaced. The story goes... he met someone new and he's interested to know her better. They even went out on a date! But who am I to interfere? We're no longer in a relationship and I slept with Calvin and I dated Calvin for a month! So it's only fair right?

In my previous entry, I had mentioned that I haven't been single for 13 years. Which is very true. I was never single for too long and this time around, I think I'm ready to discover the true meaning of being alone. I'm just going to focus on my career, my weight loss plan and my ageing face. I will casually date men without any expectations that I'll find my happily-ever-after. I'll read a lot of books, compose poetry and learn coding. I'll spend less time on social media, the internet and cut back on drinks. I should quit smoking too.

Yup, that has been a real bad habit that I've been trying to kick for almost two decades. I think I could have lived till 80. But I think I'm going to be dead by 75.

We don't live forever do we? Thirty years later, where will we be?

Friday. Time flies when you least realize it.

Sometimes fate if like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do, is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it. It will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, now you've managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.

Closing your eyes isn't going to change anything. Nothing's gonna disappear just because you can't see what's going on. In fact, things will be even worse the next time you open your eyes. That's the kind of world we live in. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing up eyes and plugging up ears won't make time stand still.

People soon get tired of things that aren't boing, but not of what is boring. A certain type of perfection can only be realized through limitless accumulation of the imperfect.

A theory is a battlefield in your head. Without counter-evidence to refute a theory, science would never progress.

Like flowers scattered in a storm, man's life is one long farewell.