This ain't goodbye -- this is just where love goes.
If I was asked to write something about Anastasia Brown.
I would start at how she was a bitch.
And then how she was possessive.
And how she, definitely, was territorial and a snob.
I would write how Ana fell in love,
how it stretches through the years.
Then how pathetically broken she was for 3/4 of the time.
Maybe it's not a very good story.
But I'd tell you anyway - what I know now.
I know how attached I have become to the quote
This is a place where horrible things happen. You were right to go. You’re probably escaping disaster. Look at me. I practically grew up here, and you’re right, it’s hurt me in ways I’ll probably never get over. I have a lot of memories of people. People I’ve lost forever. But I have a lot of other memories too. This is the place where I fell in love. The place where I found my family. And it’s the place where I met you. So I figure this place has given me as much as it’s taken away from me. I’ve lived here as much as I’ve survived here. It just depends on how I look at it. I’m gonna choose to look at it that way, and remember you that way. Hope you’re good.
Trust me when I say that - however pathetic - I grew up as Ana Brown.
I think we all do - we grow up as our character.
They take over our life at some point.
Yes, you recognise it. It's the first smile that graces your lips when your character is happy.
It's the first tears you shed - the first time you thought "whoa - this isn't happening to me, why am I this affected?"
Happiness and sadness, anger and attachments.
Or maybe I was just a bad roleplayer.
Either way, I am known for my theories.
Theory is, you feel more about RP because it is your form of escapism.
Yours.
Your ideals. Your character. Your storyline.
For once, you can decide if you get to be pretty and popular or powerful and feared or even a charming, shy girl/ guy.
You'd have superpowers, your boyfriend is a vampire, you're friend with faces like Candice Swanepoel or Megan Fox or Cara Delevingne.
and when things go boring, you can easily have the kind of drama you only watch in television - the kind where you get to hope all you might to have a happy ending, while at the same time, stirring things for the worst because somehow, you believe that the more horrible the things you overcome, the better it's going to be when it finally stops hurting.
Roleplay is a heightened version of reality.
It is very normal that you, and I, became a slave of our character, instead of the other way around.
It's because you are the one who feels what the character's supposed to feel.
Ana met a boy once.
He was quiet. Reserved. It was tough to get to him but she can't remember what she did or said but they became best friends.
We all are a little broken, and we all love something that's a little broken. I have two theories about this, it's that:
a) we thought that two brokens make a whole
or b) that someone else's brokenness is beautiful. So beautiful we start thinking about it, writing about it, falling in love with it. Because we thought we could fix that person - and how sweet would it be, that you'll fix me and I'll fix you?
Anyway, he was broken, but Ana love him nonetheless. Not just his brokenness, but also his sweet, formal way that made her heart flutter and her eyes wells up.
Ana loves how quiet and reserved he is, and she loves that she's the one he goes to for stories of his life, of his thoughts, of his fears and guilt.
He was lovely. All of him was lovely.
His formal, difficult words that even though she hates to admit - she looked up sometimes.
His emo songs that sticks to her head.
Yellowcard's only one.
His metaphor she re-read a thousand times.
His good nights, the nickname he calls her with, the nickname she calls him with.
Then he went away.
and she waits.
How Ana, and I, hate to admit that yes, we waited for years for this person that is really, a collection of words and small informations she collected over the years.
She know of his name.
She knew the girl he had a crush on.
She knew what study he wants to take up.
She knew about his family.
She knew him so well, she could recite his possible reaction to any kind of situation and she is sure her answer would be 80% correct - at least.
But other than that and a few others, he was an illusion. Made complete by poetic assumption and dreams.
Her logic, of course, point this out but even her logic flails when faced with the fact that even then, she's content with being in love and very, very much hung up on this imagination.
By now, I can recite the 5 stages of grief (by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross) perfectly. I have gone through that, over and over again.
Denial.
Anger.
Bargaining.
Depression.
Acceptance.
What Kubler-Ross missed is how memory is a fragile thing - that the slightest trigger could send someone reeling back to the first stage. Or that sometimes, one stage could last forever.
This is what Ana Brown has condemned herself into, although if I may say right now - she doesn't mind.
And if he is reading this right now. Please don't stop. This isn't the end. This isn't me blaming you. This isn't me in depression. and This isn't me falling out of love from you.
He comes back. Twice she counted. Gaps of a year or more in-between.
I cannot express to you in words how happy Ana and I was. How at the time, it felt happier than any real thing that ever happened to me.
A moment of heightened reality.
The poetic moment when it feels like the worst part is over, and that from now on - only happily ever after exists.
But of course, it wasn't.
Somewhere as I write this, I lost my point - I forgot if I was writing a warning not to take RP too much, a theory about heightened reality, or if I was writing a letter to be sent into space, with hope that he reads it.
The thing is, if you jump to the end - which is right now. I can honestly say that all these feelings, that when you rethink very carefully about it, from various point of views, will feel slightly twisted. You're gonna think you were insane. Insane enough to let virtual things be real enough to hurt you.
But if you take a step back. And I know how difficult it is - it becomes clear. That maybe, crying is too much for that situation. That the things you said were very childish. And that purposefully doing hurtful things to your friends and yourself, are sick.
Take it from someone that is so in love with her imagination, she hasn't let go of it for four years.
But that love - that was real. The friends you still have - they are real. Hold on, because sometimes, you will reel back into that heightened reality, and those are going to be the only ones that understand - the only thing that made sense.
And in case you were wondering, it is a horrible feeling to not know where he is at. What he is doing right now, if he's alright, or alive at all - which was the case of mine.
It is horrible to not know anything and just hope, that even if we don't get to meet again, he's still alive and well. And happy.
and then there's that nagging feeling that there's still slivers of hope of the two of you cozying up in a couch. Where things no longer hurt and everything will be alright. and that you won't be able to be rid of it forever.
And if you are reading this, I am so happy that you're alive. I was so scared. I hope you're alright. That things are alright. That you made the right choices and you are happy with your life now.
And if you could come back. Please do.
