EPTAnyway, I met Bitch there, liked her so much, so much that I couldn't even open up to her when I was in the city. I came back to where I live, we kept in touch for like 4-5 months. After that time, I opened up to Bitch. It was early January.
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Success! Things were going really good. I mean, really really good. It was a long distance relationship, but I felt like in heaven or some shit (needless to say, Bitch was my first girlfriend). For 5 weeks. 5 weeks of nothing but "oh I love you so much". During that time, the entire period of 5 weeks, we argued twice. Both resulted in a breakup.
A week or two after the second breakup, my grades are announced. I failed at every single class I took that semester. It's not like I wasn't totally aware of that fact. I was. But due to the basic fact that I skipped every single minute of anything that was remotely related to anything about any of my classes (in order to have a phonetalk with Bitch or go to my hometown just to see Bitch). Because, you know, I didn't give a flying fuck. Because Bitch was more important than my classes back then. Because, I was an idiot. A dumbfuck. I think you guys all met someone like that me. Someone who always makes stupid choices. It's not like he isn't totally aware of how stupid his choices are. He knows the consequences of the choices he makes too, he knows those consequences better than all of the guys that advises him not to make that choice. He says "FUCK YOU" to everyone who tries to help him even slightly. Mouthfully screams those two words: FUCK YOU. Yep, I was the guy back then. I knew that I would fail all of my classes, people whose names I never knew gave me advices about not skipping classes. They even offered me to study with me. They were all a bunch of dumbfucks for trying to get an even bigger dumbfuck straight. Needless to say, I refused them all. Remember I talked about that mouthful scream? Why? Because studying or attending classes reduce the time I could spent thinking about/talking to/being with you know who? BITCH. Because I acted like they are trying their hardest to pull me away from my heaven. Looking back, I realize that I should be thankful for not being diagnosed with severe schizophrenia.
Anyway, when my grades are announced and I faced the fact that I failed all of my classes and this time, I didn't have Bitch around to talk to. Or rather live the illusion of heaven. Ever felt that your life means nothing? That you're living in a big void of nothing? That you have no purpose of living other than participating in oxygen cycle and carbon cycle? That you are a waste of human life? That you're nothing more than someone that does nothing that is slightly meaningful? Remember the guy who always makes horrible choices despite knowing all the consequences? That's how they feel when they actually FACE those consequences.
It had been 2 years since I quit smoking. I started smoking again. It was like replacing Bitch with whatever that comes with the pack. I was smoking more than a pack a day. At some time, I realized I was smoking 2 packs a day. That was not the only thing I realized that day. I learned a three things that day: First, smoking isn't remotely as harmful to my life as what I replaced smoking with. Second, I needed to get my life straight. Third and the most important, it is, has been and will always be all about me. I shouldn't get my life straight because of anything other than me. Not because my family yells at me for failing all my classes, not because Bitch would prefer a lover that doesn't fail all his classes. I should get my life straight because that's how I want to live.
Shit didn't go all that well though. I didn't turn from someone who failed all his classes into a straight-A-student overnight. Actually, I still lacked the required willpower to attend all my classes. I was studying in a college that makes everyone jealous and I was studying in the best department of that college. I shouldn't be the one failing at life because of some bitch named Bitch. For the next year and a half, I tried to pick myself up, I decided to stay friends with Bitch for some time, decided that I didn't even want to feel the fact that she actually lives for other times. Yep, I avoided the diagnosis of bipolar disorder as well. After that time, it was my summer internship. In a really good company. I was friends with Bitch again. I shared my joy about the internship with Bitch. We were trying it again that time. For the third time. Because of the third time charm, right?
Anyway, I was planning to visit my hometown for 10 days, a week before my visit, we had a big fight. I went to my hometown and didn't even tell her I would be there. Two days until I come back, Bitch complained about the fact that I never talked to her since that fight and whined about how I wouldn't tell her even if I would visit my hometown. I met her on both days.
We were all fine and dandy and shit during my internship of two months. By 'fine and dandy and shit', I mean just like the time when we were friends for some time and enemies for other times. Except we replaced 'friends' with 'together'. Towards the end of my internship, I visited my hometown once more. Just to hang out with her for 4 more days. To see her face. To hear her voice without the need of headphones or speakers or shit. That time, I got to meet a bunch of friends of her. When I came back, I washed my hands off her. It was not because I loved her but couldn't keep suffering, not because my love for her is all gone. It was because I realized one thing: We got nothing to share. We got nothing to even talk about. It was because I saw how she behaves when we're alone together and when she is with her friends. It was because we didn't belong in the lives of each other. Or that was what I thought.
It was late August when we last met. Until 3-4 months later, she tried to talk to me a few times. Early January, exactly 2 years after we started going out, she said "do you want me to come to your city in the semester break?
". My answer was short, but precise: "no". That was the last time we communicated. I laughed out loud. Very loud. That laugh felt like I was just out of jail. I don't know if you served time, I myself did not, but I learned how getting out of jail feels. It's like you suddenly have obtained a big freedom, far beyond your imagination. A big freedom that you don't know what to do with. A freedom that came with the fear of going back to jail once more. You don't fucking want to go back to the jail, no matter what.Fast forward: June that year. I visited my hometown for a week before summer school. One day, after meeting up with my cousins, my uncle called me to my grandpa's. Urgently. Like someone died or something. Except everyone knew that no one died. I went to bus station. When I waited for the bus, some boy shouted. From what he said while shouting, it was obvious that the boy was impersonating someone. Then some girl started laughing at the impersonation. The laugh was familiar. I looked that way and I saw what I expected to see. It was Bitch, holding hands with a boy. It was obvious that they were together. They walked past me. I laughed out loud. Once more. This time, it felt different. So damn different. It was like I got beaten up by 3 dudes or something. It's like laughing out for no reason after (regaining consciousness after) getting beaten up by 3 dudes, no reason at all. Why would anyone laugh after getting beat up by 3 dudes? I didn't get beaten up by 3 dudes either. But if I got beaten up by 3 dudes, I'm damn sure that I would start laughing for no reason. Laughing, trying to say "damn they beat me hard", feeling the pain that comes from broken ribs piercing into lungs, blood coming out of mouth and nose while being unable to open eyes wide (because motherfuckers didn't miss that spot either), couldn't stand straight because waist and legs hurt a lot as well. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to get up, not with my arms getting damaged trying to protect my face. I would just lie down face up (or face down, depending on which one hurts less), and laugh out loud.
That's how the laugh was and what that laugh felt.
Like Kendrick Lamar says:
We hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us.
I had two relationships. This was the first one, I loved someone that hurt me; and in the second one I hurt someone that loved me. Maybe some time later I'll blog that too. I don't know.
