When You Broke My Heart
When you broke my heart for the first time, I had to blame the movies, the songs, the series and all of those crappy signs and symbols that best friends could fall in love with each other and live happily ever after. I moped in bed the whole weekend. I cried until my eyes were red and tears could no longer fall from my weary eyes. My days skipped through and it was the most horrible emotional experience I had to go through. Every emo song was for me. And because you broke my heart after I bought you lunch and borrowed money, I did not eat lunch for the rest of the days. It was the worst. Worst than failing in that subject in my first semester in college. Worst than having to know that I was only second best in school. Worst than having this stupid girl flaunt in front of me that she is already the girlfriend of my crush just right in time for my birthday. Even so…I cannot give up on this, my emotional investment…my ‘love’ for you.
When you broke my heart for the second time, I blamed where you were and of course the set of friends that are available in the locality where you lived in. We lived far away. And so were your friends. They were different from my nerdy we-like-to-make-chemistry/physics/biology/insert subject here jokes. They were outgoing, friendly, socially appropriate and wore flashy outfits and carry Nikon or Canon DSLRs to be used later for Lookbook posts. I never understood them. I drew farther away from you and it seemed I never knew you at all. You were always talking about them. You forgot about me. How we spent time, how we chatted for hours, how we laughed at particular songs, words and others. I slowly dissolved like the foam on the soda you havent touch for a while. But even so…I tried to play in this seesaw even though it appeared I was the only one playing it.
When you broke my heart for the third time, I blamed your shifty emotions. Yes you fell for this guy and I was the last to know. And all the while you made me believe I was having decent chances at you. You put your arm around me. You texted me sweet stuff and reconnected with me. However, you didnt even have the decency to tell me I stand no chance against this guy. You didnt have the decency to tell me to stop showering you all of these expensive gadgets, books and dinners and lunches. You didnt even tell me. How can this guy who broke your heart and by far mediocre than me in all aspects make your insides go kaboom everytime? How can I not make it to your cut? And no matter how bad I think of you, I forgive you and be your friend and hold your hand and listen to your rants and hug you when you cry.
When you broke my heart for the fourth time, I blamed myself. How can I let you creep back in? Every dinner, every movie, every book I ever gave you free, I knew that there was something crap after. The signs were there – that I was falling for your tricks again. However strong I seem to be, why do you always break the walls I build around myself? Why do have that power over me – the cruel words you inflict on my psyche? And now I blame myself for watching all the wrong movies, listening to the wrong songs and reading the wrong blogs and books. I blame myself for showering with expensive gadgets, books, dinners, movie tickets even though I knew that you really dont care about me or what I do.
You are like one of the class cards I got after my first semester in college. Stamped with a five in red ink – indicating that I failed even though I tried so hard…in every possible way. You are the constant reminder of how I am vulnerable to my feelings. You are the heart attack that I haven’t expected to kill me. You are the torture chamber I can never escape. 
