The Beginning of Insensibility

If there is one thing about love I could claim to know very well, it would have to be my never-ending pursuit of it. Being only five ages away from hitting 40, I have fallen in and out of love with many different men for several fractions of an eternity, spanning more than two decades of my quiet, albeit emotionally tumultuous existence. With each of them, I have toyed with the fantasy that I've finally found the “one.” And, as fate would have it, not one of them turned out to be that knight in shining armor who would brave tempestuous seas to rescue me from my misery.

So, I decided to rescue myself instead.

I really did not have much of a choice, did I? Since it was foolhardy to throw my life away just because of my oh-so-many frustrations, no other recourse was available save to salvage my own sorry ass. And thus I braved those tempestuous seas despite my fear and depression, trudging onwards without so much as a final glance at the lonesome fortress I have inhabited for as long as I could remember.

Upon starting life anew(for the nth time), I can't claim that I came out of the ordeal unscathed. Tempestuous seas are merciless. Riddled with depression and other adverse nagging emotions, I forced myself to turn a blind eye to the pain as I gradually made it across to safety. By the blessing of God, I survived and lived to tell the tale. Very much alive, yes, but not without the multitude of scars that still bleed every once so often up to this very day.

But through it all, I still adamantly refuse to succumb to death. Powerful though my emotions are, I would never go down. I would fight viciously to keep my sanity and my life no matter what the cost. My life is my responsibility; my emotions are mine to control. They may bother me time and time again, yet there is no way my feelings could shove me hard enough to make me lose my footing. Nope. Not today. Never ever tomorrow.

Desperate to go on living, I came up with this poignant memoir chronicling each romance-filled dream that burst and burned to nothingness, marking my deplorable so-called love life as yet another one of them composed-on-the-outside-but-troubled-on-the-inside females. This is my way of embracing my pain as the only means to freeing myself of my past. In becoming insensible, I have to pick through the sensibilities and details of every romantic rendezvous, both real and imagined, and explore the meaning buried beneath each emotional rubble. In fairness to all the buttholes and dreamboats who have graced my life, I can't deny that despite all the hurt they put me through, each remains the uniquely beautiful person whose presence would forever be etched in my life story.

Whether I like it or not, the brief eternity I shared with each one of them had molded me into the woman I am today(As though this is something I can be proud of. Eeewww!!!). Crazy - no doubt about it. But definitely stronger despite the still-bleeding wounds. And way wiser that I have come to realize that the only way to fully exist is to share myself with others. Even if this means having my heart broken and shattered to bits in the process.

To deny my past is to deny my present and future. If my search for honesty and affection were the causes of my troubles, they are also the only ways through which I could finally find peace and redemption.

Through other people's eyes, my experiences may have been no more than ordinary. But for me, they meant so much more for they have taken up a good deal of my time, life, and emotions.

Enjoy the ride while it lasts.

I hope you learn something from all my pitfalls and misgivings.

Revel in the sensibilities of my insensible love life.

Peace brother...