And so the song asks…
I could vividly remember this one conversation I had with a good friend of mine, about my plans a month after I had a major, major heart break. She, too, was a victim of this sinful crime of passion and was then, on the verge of picking up her shattered pieces. “We” were sharing the same “spotlight”.
“So ano ng plano mo?” – she reluctantly asked me.
I knew I gave her a blank stare, followed by a deep sigh. I didn’t know exactly what to utter and just opted to kid around and say…
“Hindi ko alam… Sa tingin mo? Where do broken hearts go? – I smirked, only to laugh quietly when my friend started singing that line from a Whitney Houston song.
Three days ago, after 7 months since that conversation inside a museum, and 8 months since that catastrophic heart misfortune happened, I considered reflecting on that question we once joke about.
Where has that broken heart been going for the past months?
It had me reminiscing literally where I have been for the last three quarters of a year.
Besides leading me into singing songs of hurts and despair, bringing out the most unusual sentimental fool in me – I found my heart wanting to run (literally and figuratively) by joining marathon. Running, for a moment, gave me a sense of getting away from that bitter experience. It helped me not to think about what happened by drifting me off easily to sleep when my body starts to feel the aches brought about by those long runs. (Thank you Adidas Run, Pharma Run, Baguio Run, Columbia Run…)
I found my heart telling my feet to allow them to be dragged into cafes, and restos, and bars – filling me with such gastronomic feast… And for a jiffy, my heart’s emptiness was filled through my stomach. (Thank you Starbucks, various Baguio, Dagupan, Sagada, Ilocos and Manila restaurants, bars and cafes…) Furthermore, I found myself wanting to swig more of the usual dose of brandy, rum, tequila, vodka and other alcoholic beverages that I used to gulp… (Thank you for the many drinking sprees we’ve shared EBBs and TaRxiers, and for listening to my heart’s sentiments…)
Moreover, I found my heart traveling near and far, from the mountains to the seas, from the frequented places to less traveled paths. And so goes my life of wandering every now and then. Most of the time, I was on my own. Thinking this would be the best way to ease out what has been stabbing me. Hoping that this would help me forget (a term I wouldn’t want to use a.m.a.p because it’s just impossible to do so). On tenterhooks that this would be a good way of finding answers I was yearning for. Thank you Batangas, Sagada, Ilocos, Zambales, Bolinao, Pampanga, La Union and many more… The awesome views you have offered, for a fleeting moment, did make me happy…)
But at the end of the day… at the end of a tiresome run… after filling up my tummy with delightful food and drinks… and after days of wandering – when I am resting inside my room, I would hear my heart say, “Lester, I was here all day and night long. I am still here. Still shattered. Still crying. Still asking a lot of questions.”
So where do broken hearts go?
Nowhere. They are kept within a man’s soul — waiting for the right time to be swept away and to love again..
***Originally posted 29April2011 in my FB account