TaNkGiRly 的網路日誌

Endymion



Chapter 3



When you broke up with someone, it was rather surprising that it wasn’t the heartache that bothered you the most, at least not to me. You know that one of Britney Spears’ world famous songs had a lyric like: “………my loneliness is killing me!……” something, which was so true. (I do listened to pop songs, I was quite shameless to admit it. You would be surprise the number of people who loved pop songs but far too scared to admit it, just because they were afraid others might think they were low class. Ended up they all being forced to fake their interests on some metal rock, insects singing, or some truly boring music) For next few weeks, the enormous lump of loneliness took over my life. No, I was still awfully busy, the semester had begun and I was running all over the place like a horse. I actually purposely took two extra totally non-nurse related papers (Linguistics and Introduction to Buddhist Philosophy) and one extra shift during the weekend as a carer for ICU. It just that you’ve been spent the last couple of years of your life with someone and suddenly that person was no longer there. The emptiness, usually followed by the loneliness, was really awkward. I had this urge every day to let Carl knew I loved him terribly and I want him ditched that Daphne woman and came back to me (there were actually a couple of times I was almost going to do so. Luckily my normal logic sense managed to pull me out of it before any massive destruction was done.) The feeling of totally alone on this very planet was so overwhelmed sometimes, I actually reckoned I would be better off just died.

When you had such a powerful loneliness and emptiness in your heart, like rubbed salts onto injuries, heartaches were hurt like hell. It was like if you were run over by a spacecraft, dipped into some boiling oils and then dropped into a pool of lava; or someone cut your chest open, pulled your heart out with all nerves still attached and poked it with knife. (not if any of you were going to experience this in your lifetime, I was just using this to make you had some kind of references about how painful the heartache was). Carl and I had known our relationship had come to an end, but until the grand finitio I was sort of hoping it would still turned out alright, maybe Carl still loved me, maybe I was just overreacting, maybe…you know, all those “things will sort out by itself”, “whatever will be, will be”... that kind of rubbish (and I never thought of, not even once, that maybe this way things meant to be, funny that). When this actually came to an end, I was actually surprised that the pain I’ve experienced was as bad as those who have been cluelessly dumped. It was like jumping off the cliff. You started with walking towards the cliff. You knew you were going to jump all along, not that you didn’t know anything and you were suddenly in the mid-air and fell off at high speed or something. But when you finally jump, the feeling of fear still shock you and you still ended up shattered to bits.

I spent the next few days nearly cried my eyes out. No, seriously I nearly cried my eyes out. My skin was allergic to almost everything. Since I was a little girl, my mum had to go through a whole lot of trouble by applying sunscreen every time before we went out (almost every time, after all, this was Australia we were talking about). And I was forbidden to touch anything when we were out, just in case I encountered something that would make me allergic (lord forgave my mum, the trouble of going through all those tests to figure out the source sometimes scared the hell out of her). When I was in the adolescence, you know, when we all became very image conscious, this problem had given me quite a bit of headache. Well, imagined you couldn’t wear makeup at all when you went to the ball; or couldn’t chose the beauty product in front of the fully stacked supermarket shelves, just because they all made your face allergic; worst of all, whenever you had a late night sleep, your face looked like a vampire had a chicken flu. Believed me, this was not very pleasant. Now you could imagine when I cried my eyes were all allergic and red and puffy and that kind of stuff. I had to bury my face into a sink full of ice every day before I left the door. Anything could set me off into riverbank-bursting flooding drama, children having injections screaming their heart off, cute puppies, pop stars, reality shows (“that poor lady wasn’t picked by the bachelor!”), love scenes, massacres, even war on Iraq (“those poor beheaded hostages…”). This almost drove Zoë nuts whenever she came to visit.

“Oh Christ! Cut it off! Will you? These were just ‘Postie Pat’!” She nearly hit the roof when she spotted me weeping.

“But…..but that blackandwhite cat was so cute!” I weakly defended.

“They were puppets!!!!!” I swore Zoë must have cursed me a hundred million times behind my back.

Then I had to hide it from Carl while I was still in his place. I didn’t want him to know my true feeling towards him so he wouldn’t trap in some kind of love triangle maze. He no longer loved me. If I made him come back by showing him my feelings, then I was a very selfish cow. Plus thanks to his Italian genes (his family was second generation Italian immigrants), the full-on raw emotion to Carl was like air to us (no, he wouldn’t cried because of the puppy looked adorably cute. That was a bit too extreme to a normal human being). If he saw me cried, believe me, he would cry harder. Ended up we all needed icy water.

Although Carl insisted I didn’t have to, I still moved out of his flat within two weeks. What? After breaking up with your boyfriend, I didn’t think any girl in their right mind would still stay under the same roof with him. It just not right. Don’t you think? Pardon? Going back to your parents? Are you mad? If I went home every time I broke off with my boyfriend, I might as well not move out at all in the first place. No, I just needed a place by myself to heal my pain.

I was quite lucky, a tiny villa in Posonby needed a tenant urgently because the owner is going to his new job over the United Kingdom in two weeks. Everything was included. I even got a cat and a dog (owner couldn’t afford to bring them overseas, he had to leave them behind. I promised him I would take lots of photos and sent it to him every month). And can’t you believe it? I didn’t have to pay any bond, either. All I had to do was moving in asap.

The day I moved out was another emotional event. Carl and I both cried buckets. He insisted I shouldn’t have to move out, I insisted I should have. Persuasion and resistance back and forth, a simple one-morning event ended up taken nearly whole day. Almost the entire neighbourhood came to watch us. I swore I heard our friendly next-door old Gary told one of the nosytothecore grannies that this was way better than Shortland Street.

Why people had to break up? If they knew all of these hassles they had to been through after, would any of them bother to break up?

If they know all the pain they had to been through after, would they consider not falling in love at all?

(to be continued...)