Over and over.

It began with mushrooms. I had this passive fascination over them ever since I found out that some were toxic. That was a long time ago. I was still a kid then. I could only imagine colonies of humans slowly getting wiped out figuring out which mushrooms were poisonous and which were fine. Silly me, I thought. My fascination remained passive since I never brought it upon myself to find out exactly how our race was able to map out the edible mushrooms from the lethal ones. A few years later, I found myself watching a documentary on how anti-venom works. This was eventually followed by a trivial episode in science class where I had to learn how antibodies worked. And then I read some details about vaccines. Before I was a teenager, I had somewhat concluded that the human race was doomed to a painful existence.

The other day, my trainer threw a random phrase that I am (as well as other bodybuilders are) familiar with. "You have to destroy them to build them." Made sense. Muscle needed room to grow so tearing them with heavy work gives it gaps it could fill and build on. In the long run, more muscle makes one stronger, more powerful, and more resilient. "Bring it on." I said.

History also seems to agree to this. After the world wars, most of our grandparents who went through them can live through anything. Filipinos upheld their democracy from several oppressors both foreign and from within. Even the Catholic Church had to see their Christ die before the empire would rise after three days.

The big idea seemed to be resilience. The more we subjected ourselves to the things that harm us, the stronger we become not just against them, but overall. Yet here I am, all spent and shattered, just like the day my ex had left me, just after looking at the profile photo he had placed on his locked profile. And it was just one quick glance at that.

Some friends of mine claim to get over past lovers in days. Some hours. There are those who even brag minutes. I didn't really agree with that. My experience may be a bit limited. After all, I've only had one boyfriend. We've been apart for almost half a decade now. Still, I am not over him. But I am fine. In everyday words, I have moved on, but I haven't gotten over him. And I don't think I will ever.

Should I consider lobotomy? I believe that for as long as it is a memory, it will always be part of me. And if I get over it, I get over myself. The point in which that becomes possible perhaps would happen upon death. I don't think getting over someone is supposed to mean that it's over. To me, it just means that we have to live on top of it, stronger, more resilient, better. Or at least we try to.

I honestly can't explain why I am feeling like this after just quickly seeing his photo. Maybe I can liken it to getting bitten by a venomous snake. I haven't been bitten by one but I can imagine how painful it could be. I take it that even if one is given anti-venom and is saved from the poison, another encounter later on won't feel any less painful. But like the presence of anti-venom suggests, there is a capacity to get over it. That said, I think whoever got around to figuring out anti-venoms and vaccines probably had issues worse than mine.

So here I am. Still taken aback after seeing my ex's photo. But I know I will be fine. It just hurts that I miss him and I don't know if he thinks of me. And I wish he did. And I wish that I knew he did. Does. But I will be fine. I know I will be fine. Before I was a teenager, I had somewhat concluded that the human race was doomed to a painful existence. I'd like to believe this conclusion is still valid but it now comes with an addendum clause. The human race is doomed to a painful existence that is worth living.