Memoirs of an Amnesiac

Let's face it. Letting go sucks. It is that day when you realize that all your delusions about falling and staying in love with whom you once thought to be Mr. Right ends. What's worse, it just doesn't occur in a day. It is a journey of sorts, which either leads you wrapped with a straight jacket to the nearest mental ward or to the nearest Yoga center.

Boy meets girl, or so I thought (if this is told in the point of view of the girl, where everything else, like in the movies, becomes magical), and then they feel that magical thing growing inside them, whatever one may call it. The next film strips come in succession: boy tries to ask for the girl's number (again, said in the point of view of the girl), girl responds to boy's texts and then the rest is history. If the girl had realized that that single text saying, "Who is this?" could lead to that painful cul-de-sac, she would have turned off her cell phone. Again, another thing we have to admit, we love those catchy beginnings (even get thrilled with them), as much as we love happy endings.

But we are not our own directors (nor scriptwriters). We can come up with our own concepts at how our relationships should turn out, (packed with full scripts about those eloquent and sophisticated lines that lead to happy endings), but we will never get to have our actors (our own selves) speak them. For always, it is the spontaneous and downright crazy things we do, that hits the final cut. I guess by this time, we have all figured out already that we would not fare well as producers for even if we do come up with billion-dollar trailers, no one will ever buy this shit we come up with.

And so we lose ourselves to animal-branded liquors, getting home in the wee hours of the morning, just to find sense into what is going on with us. But we will only fool ourselves (just as we let ourselves get fooled that Edward's body really glitters and so they placed glittery powders on it), if we keep thinking that we can put sense into our tiny brains. We will only waste our neurons in the process.

Love begins and ends. We will have no control about it. We can choose to drown ourselves along with our delusions about love and loving into the weary and endless quagmire of self-pity, woe-to-me attitude. Or we can choose to let it have its time. Give it time to teach us what it needs to teach us (so typical of a movie's climax). Drunk or sober, the blame must not be one-sided. Besides, albeit cliched, it always takes two to tango.

Don't expect me to dim the screen for you and out comes, with a flashing light bulb, tips on how to get over the dread of letting go, because I have none. All I'm saying is, you are not alone. Every day, around the world, lots of people are lost and are trying to fight off this scare (worse than the tsunami) of letting go. And just like any calamity, we will never come prepared for it. It will come and pierce us, like a two-edged sword (used in most fantasy movies, hehehe).

All we have to do is enjoy it (no matter how painful it is). Let it purge itself and when it is over, we can all straighten ourselves up and prepare.

This time, we're ready for the next screening.