Saturday September 20, 2003

It is a curious sensation: the sort of pain that goes mercifully beyond our powers of feeling. When your heart is broken, your boats are burned: nothing matters any more. It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace. ~George Bernard Shaw, Heartbreak House

It was a week since the Departure. I called Carl on his cell but he wasn’t picking up. When my emails were left unanswered, I began to realise it was truly over. The reality came crashing down and there was no escape. I decided on a strategy of ‘forget and move on’. I would rise above the situation and get a grip on myself. And if, against all odds, I couldn’t, I would resort to serving the ice-cold dish of revenge. I was well versed in Dangerous Liaisons by Choderlos de Laclos, and La Marquise de Merteuil had always enjoyed a far better reception from me than the venom the rest of the world had meted out. So with great ingenuity I planned for a promising future with or without the prospect of Carl. I told myself I had to emerge victorious from this disastrous affair. There was simply no other option.