A slip into drama (again?)

I've been through a roller coaster of emotions in the past couple of years. You've probably heard the story from the lady next door, or the gossip guy upstairs. As long as I'm concerned, I don't have any concerns. Some of you have laughed a questionable laugh at me (ha-ha here's the laugh back with you). Some others, thankfully have stood beside me and embraced me with the warmest embrace a teddy bear could ever give. (Sincerely, bears are the most huggable looking creatures on earth, and teddy bears are the only huggable bears in case you still want to stay alive and unharmed after the hug. And who wants to die after a hug and unable to keep the memories of a beautiful warm hug. Pardon me, I do have issues with hugs, and bears)

And I have put my greatest effort to avoid all sorts of drama. This roller coaster ride has made me vulnerable, uh mentally- that was a bit hard to put up. I avoided tv romances, love stories, movies, unreasonable dramatic love songs such as -I'll catch a grenade for you-s, even Jane Austen and Bronte novels and any other forms of emotionally igniting pieces of arts and literature. I didn't want to hit myself and I was very aware of being highly protective towards my over sensitive mind. (and over sensitive lacrimal glands?). Some of those memories are too profound, some have been residing in my brain longer than anything I've read on a medical textbook. It was a bit tough to wipe them up like wiping a permanent board marker. It's not absolutely permanent, it just needs effort to erase.

I recently visited the lib again. It was unplanned, I went there to accompany a friend and when I got there I felt like borrowing something. To my surprise, my subconscious mind led me to pick Gabriel Garcia Marquez' Love in the Time of Cholera. Honestly, I think I'm just curious about this author, I've once read about him in wiki. And when I decided to borrow it, I didn't feel any kind of worry. I was not afraid anymore of reading romance or drama, however it would turn up in the end. I somehow feel that I have regained my strength. I remember I've already spotted the words unrequited love at the first sentence. But who knows, who knows, I don't even feel afraid.

I guess, time does heal a broken heart.