waiting for the end of the world

It was only recently that I've watched the movie The Big Short (which I loooove, by the way) and in that movie they've quoted the famous Haruki Murakami: "Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come". 

It was so powerful I decided to buy the book 1Q84 the next day. Damn it.

There is a resounding truth to this sentence though, if you're a confused and depressed little fuck like me. That's exactly why I'm here, updating a blog that's been in hiatus for more than a year, while sending my 'non-life changing' date home, so I can sit in a bar by myself and have a moment of 'media' enlightenment, so to speak. 

This year has not been kind to me so far. I've gone through a very ugly breakup. And then signed myself up on these "dating apps" that has been exciting for a limited period in time, and just downright pathetic for the rest. The breakup was cruel, because it just made me realize that no matter how much you give, it will never be enough with the wrong person. It also severely crushed my overly inflated ego, and maybe rightfully so, because I had to be pulled back to earth so I can be on my knees, on the dirt, to kiss the gravestone of the one who, for a short period of time, had completed me. I realized that I have never really truly, completely, mourned over the loss of my greatest love. I had to move on, thinking I had to do it for my son, when maybe I was only cheating mourning itself, because I don't know any better. I just knew I had to get there somehow, and soon.

I supposed I needed to be truly alone, truly miserable, so I can maybe crawl out of my hole in whole (fun puns, yes). Trying to come out of my grief by soliciting the help of others can only move me an inch. Having to actually go through my misery, by myself, and consciously surviving each and every day by choosing to be alive is perhaps the only way out. It sure as hell ain't easy, trust me, I probably haven't seen the worst of myself yet, and I'm quite scared of how much uglier it can get. But no one else could and should see it, but me. There is yet another movie I watched recently called Colossal (which I also looove) that quoted, "There is a monster in all of us". Well, my monster is screaming and bickering and kicking and moaning because its steel arms are brittle and its joints are rusty. I am just so fucking tired of trying to be strong. 

Will I come out of it alive? It's a matter of for how long. All I know is, when I think of Lovro, I fucking try. Until that day, when I'm done trying, then we will all find out whether it's the strong or the weak who truly wishes for the world to end.