Friday, April 1, 2016

His words

"I know there's no such thing as forever, and there will always be endings. Miniature deaths. Practice rounds for the final ending, but let us not be morbid now... now... because life is to know love, and to know its slow peel away from my bones.

I will miss these people as one who misses strangers with whom one has small talk on the train every day, their lack of presence causing but a mere ripple in the totality of a life, but the ripple is perceived, and felt, all the same.

I should be missing her the most, but perhaps I've had enough lead time to prep for the separation. We both knew it was coming; who initiated it, and why, was and remains irrelevant, because endings, even when seen approaching from a distance, hurt all the same. They resonate, they ripple, they reverberate out into the years ahead, long after the ending arrived, and made itself known, and caused the usual, predictable damage.

Damage. What damage? I feel fine. I'm okay. This is what I wanted. The relationship needed to end, and here we are... at this hour, with her somewhere, and I'm here in her apartment - our apartment for a moment in time.

Damage. What damage? My heart is not broken. I am not alone. I am not facing the future without the hope, the prospect, of yet another partnership, perhaps the final partnership, the one I've required this entire time.

Damage. Yes, there is damage. I've had to watch her sob and feel powerless to console her - the villain can't be the hero at the same time.

I wish it didn't have to end like this. Like - what?

Like - with palpable silence, the kind which makes one wonder if she's invisible if she even exists in his eyes, while he seems completely detached from that which he cares for so deeply - according to him.

Like - with desperation, with pleas to stay, even if the words were never said; beggary shows itself on the skin, wafting from the pores, much like alcoholism.

Like - I've paid closer attention to the older black men on the train, on the platform pissing, crossing the street desperate for something, sitting in cafes, all without wedding bands, some without kids, and I'm scared to death of growing old and alone.

Endings make room for beginnings. I see the tiny cycles occurring from day to day. How the end of a relationship is a rupture, a split, and maybe something new will grow forth from the fracture - or not - but I tend to the wound anyway. The wound is mine. It is a new geographical point on my body. A new city on my skin.

The end is never silent. It is near silent, almost pitch black. I think of the train tunnel leading into Penn Station, the way it's completely dark, but not quite as a few lights whiz by. The steel wheels thump and hum underneath the train, and strangers whisper behind you, or rustle newspapers, or stand as their backs creak and knees creak. The end reminds me of a body slowly aging, and randomly hurting; it is the cognitive dissonance of knowing this is the end, even as the train pulls into the station, and with an exhale, you see life is head of you, still.

Trying too hard

She has always been that girl who tries damn hard for everything that she wants, who'd put people through hell with her stubbornness just so she could have things. Sometimes she hurts herself in the process; sometimes she hurts others. Her belief that nothing in this world cannot be achieved if you try hard enough has caused her so much pain, so much self-worth lost in the lines of trying too hard.

And it's evident when everything in her life starts to fall apart. Her trying too hard, ironically, seems to not be enough at all. Her guy walked away from her life, her best friend died in an accident, her results plummeted, she's stressed out from work, her health is deteriorating, her life was just in shambles. Every morning she woke up and told herself that if she tried hard enough, everything will be okay, everything will get better, but it never did get better.

Her wanting to make him happy meant her trying too hard to push him away, or forcing him to make decisions, her indecisiveness, her trying too hard to get an answer, she needs an answer. Her constant replaying of her best friend's last voice note to her didn't bring him back, and she tried so hard to forget, to not think about him, and all it brought was just memories and dreams and hopes 

Her trying hard to distract herself from life by working hard just caused her too much stress that she don't sleep, she can't sleep. She busied herself so much she lost any sense of passion for her work, and she just drifted day by day, "trying hard" to work hard.

And then her health... what happened to that? Between work and life and forgetting and remembering she truly, truly lost herself. She allowed herself to deteriorate to the point where her body is struggling to keep up, and it's like her body is self destructing, screaming at her to stop. trying. so. hard.

And then her therapist told her to go back to reading, and writing, and it helped. All the time she took to read and write made her pause and think about life, and she realized in the midst of making everything perfect she lost sight of all the beautiful imperfections around her.

So she stopped. She started accepting him as just friends, nothing more, nothing else. She stopped beating herself up whenever she thought about her best friend, and started embracing the tears and the sadness that envelops her. She stopped trying extremely hard to seem happy and cheerful and instead, just started to let her emotions fall through, even if it meant letting everyone see her facade and realize that something is wrong with her.

There are so many things that she can't control. Getting her heart broken, losing someone in her life, random acts of meanness and kindness, dying,... And so she's letting things be.

"At some point you will realize that you have done too much for someone, that the only next possible step to do is to stop. Leave them alone. Walk away. It's not like you're giving up, and it's not like you shouldn't try. It's just that you have to draw the line of determination from desperation. What is truly yours will eventually be yours, and what is not, no matter how hard you try, will never be."


Your mum reads my blog.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

After having been torn apart about it for a few days, she decided to tell Dan what happened between her and him, and the subsequent clash of feelings and emotions that they both experienced, that she's experiencing right now.

"So now you're here, waiting for his answer, one you'd been hoping would be what you wanna hear; but his answer should be one with a higher possibility of not what you want to hear."

......

"First things first, I'm pretty sure when he came and met you he had no intentions, at all, to rekindle any romance that happened between you two. In fact, I'm 110% sure that his intentions were purely to reconnect as friends. Maybe he felt like he still had feelings for you, and the point of this meeting is for him to reassure himself that he made the right decision, and that his feelings for you are just based on past memories, and this meeting will further echo his thought of not wanting to be with you.

And that's why he mentioned not wanting to be in a relationship so many times throughout your lunch with him. Maybe he felt something stir in his heart and he's just trying to reassure himself that he's happy being single, that his life cannot go on with someone like you by his side. Or maybe he's just telling you the truth. He doesn't want to be in a relationship, not now, and not any time soon. Maybe meeting you didn't cause him to feel anything, at all.

And when every time he look away you stare at his side profile to remember the way his eyes crease when he smiles, the way his beard used to give you those beard rashes, how you used to lie your head on his shoulders, and hold his hand while walking through the grocery store,... While you're doing all those, maybe he never did it to you. Maybe he looks at you and he truly sees you as a friend, as someone who he can talk to and laugh with, but that's that.

When he offered to carry you like how he promised he'd do to you even when you're old, when you koala hugged and you looked into his eyes and his eyes were different than how it was in the grocery store, maybe then he truly had that spark. Maybe he realized "shit, I still love this girl." Or maybe you thought too much. You have a tendency to do that, don't you? Maybe that look was just a glance back to the past you used to have, but in his mind, there's nothing about a future with you, it's just merely a past.

And then you placed him into that situation. When you told him you'd like to kiss him but you're afraid he pushed you away and he told you what if he didn't maybe he was truly curious. He asked you a question, "wouldn't it be more awkward?", and you decided to challenge him, to push his boundaries. That... that made you a bitch.

And then after everything that wasn't supposed to happen happened he held you in his arms and he didn't wanna let you go, and you, that selfless, selfless you, thought of how he suffered when he was with you and how happy he is now and you asked him to let you go. You said things to remind him why he left in the first place, to convince him that leaving you is the best choice, that going on is the worst choice he could make. You kept asking him to let you go, to let you go to the toilet, knowing that that's your first step to helping him make the decision to not have anything to do with you. Then you tell him that no matter what you'll be fine... Will you be fine, honestly?

You asked him if he still love you, and he was silent, and that silent could've been a yes, but then that silence most probably was just him contemplating how to tell you he doesn't without hurting your feelings more than he already did.

But now... now you told him the truth about you being sick and even if he actually decided to end things do you think he'd tell you when everyone around you is worried about this girl who is vomiting blood and getting dizzy spells, whose appetite drastically went down til she only eats a meal a day? Do you think he'd have the heart to tell you that he doesn't want any of these?

And you tell him so much of your feelings and yet you miss out on telling him so many things. All because you choose to not be selfish.

So now you're here......."

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Heartaches

"i'm not giving up, just letting go"

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Together

"There was a feeling of inevitability when i met you. the sense that we would be together; that there would be a moment when you would look at me in a certain way, and we could cross the threshold from friendship into something so much more.

we spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. and i think i had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. how else could we know the worth of what we were given?

i think you were always meant to know me a little better than anyone else. and our lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. i know there is a terrible distance between us. but our bodies are made of celestial light, and we are hurtling through space and time, towards the most beautiful collision.

I will never be

"i know that i will never be and never fill and never equal the love you have for the ones that hold you there. i know i will never say the right words or know the right songs or understand the right ways to hold your heart to make anything resemble ok.

i know i am not enough, and now, maybe now, i know that i have never been enough and just developed a keen and interesting ability to convince myself that i was. i have never been enough and i do not know why but this time, THIS time, that hurts worse than any other time. i see your mouth to say the words that has nothing to do with me and only has everything to do with them but i cannot believe it and i look for the truth inside it but i am sorry to tell you it does not live there.

my three words belong to you as they always have, so reach out your shaking hands and i will rest them gently upon them. three words: i love you. and 5, if i had 2 more to spare: i will always love you.

Don't

"Don't love me. don't. just don't.

for i may not remember the year you were born, or the exact address of that place we first met, or your phone number, or what color was your shirt yesterday, or how many friends you have, or their names, or how long you and your ex had been together, or even her name. i may not remember these details, maybe it's because i didn't care much and i am really sorry for that.

but i will surely remember how you made me feel the first time i ever saw you.

i will indeed remember how my stomach twirled and turned the first moment you talked to me. i will remember how our first small talk, first chat, first phone call went. i will definitely remember all those signs that bestow glimpses of hope, all those words that gripped me together and further my wishes and expectations for us.

i will absolutely remember the exact way you loved me and made me feel worthy.

i will remember how you recall every important detail in my life. i will remember how you glanced at me then smiled so beautifully then told me that when you look at me, all you see is the rest of your life right before your very eyes. i will remember that time you confide your desire to live the rest of your life with me - to marry me and build a life with me. i will remember that moment you conceded that you don't know how you would recover your life if ever you'd lost me. i will remember how you genuinely loved me.

With that, however, i will also remember how every constituent of my body vibrated and echoed that excruciating pain. i will utterly remember how broken i am (still), along with all your broken promises.

i will remember perfectly how it ravaged every beautiful element inside me; how you destroyed me.

because i will always remember all these, like burns engraved in my chest, in my mind, and right through my bare soul.

Friday, April 3, 2015

That third person

Cheating. An occurrence that (usually) signifies the end of a relationship, or at least the degrading of one. There are instances where guys cheat and no one ever finds out. And then there are instances where they cheat and all hell broke loose.

I've been there. Never cheated on anyone, but I've been cheated on. Once, twice, who's counting anymore? It sucks, of course, to know that that someone who you trusted was able to disregard you enough to be with someone else while texting you, saying hey, I love you. It sucks even more because no one seems to care about that broken heart. When he ended up being with her, you'd smile and convince yourself that they're a better fit when deep down, inside, you're dying, sinking.

But that's never the end. You move on. Whatever he did will no longer hurt you, and you sincerely wish them the best, though you'd much rather not have to face him in class every day.

Sometimes... sometimes things don't end. Sometimes he did it to you, and then he apologized, and you'll take him back. And this is where the perception splits. The guy thinks that since he's forgiven, that the girl should mention nothing about the past, or distrust him in any way. For the girl... it's a bit more complicated than that. Every "I love yous" brings doubt to her mind, flashbacks to the hurt he caused, the deep, dark memories that seems to haunt her every move. She loves him, she truly do. But it's always hard to move on. Maybe, after a year, or two, when he's finally able to prove himself... Maybe then she'll be able to let go.

I've also been that third person. Once, twice, thrice... Let's not go there. To all those people who think that I've no guilt, that's not true. The first time it happened, I did it because I was lonely, because he was there, because there was nothing more to it other than companionship and having someone by my side. The second time it happened with someone else, I did it because I love him. When things happen I choose to not think about the other half. The person who I'm inflicting pain upon. It works, for a while. Then I hear things. They broke up. It's a relieve when it's an amicable break up, to know that I was the third person in a relationship that is almost in shambles. But it's never nice when the girl would go on a rant about (you) without knowing who she's talking about.

I'll admit it. All those times, I was a selfish bitch. I chose to put myself over others. I chose to think that although she didn't deserve it, I'm giving her a glimpse of who that person she's with is. She might have never known about my existence, but I definitely knew about hers. And I consciously decided to ignore her presence in his life. I would love to apologize, but I know that they'd much rather me not.

Now that I'm with the person who cheated with me, it's like a backslap in the face. I can't seem to fully grasp the concept of trusting him. You know the saying, "if he cheated on his girlfriend with you, he will definitely cheat on you"? That scares me. It scares me to death knowing that one day, karma will come and bitch slap me in the face, leaving me breathless, broken, scarred, all over again. And instinctively, I'm shying away. Away from the relationship, slowly sheltering myself, for fear of getting hurt.

Karma's a bitch, and I'm about to get caught in its war.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

 ***
They sit there with their pints of beer, him at his third round of Asahi, her still at her first round of Paulaner. She never knew how to drink, how to gather her thoughts well once the alcohol starts kicking in. Not drinking is a way for her to stay safe, to be the sane one between them. Ironically, three years ago she would drink pints after pints, just to keep up with him, impress him, be in his state of mind.

Months of not seeing each other led to this awkward moment where none of them knew what to say, what to do. They knew nothing of what's happening in each others lives. Is he happy? Is he healthy? His decision to disconnect from the outside world meant that if he didn't call today, she'd never know what's happening, if he's alive, if he's injured, dead. When she got the call to meet up she was surprised. Wasn't he 12 hours away, away from her?

She saw him first. That wavy hair with a color that she could never describe. The way he leans on his car door when he waits for someone. The way he scratches his eyebrow. So nothing's changed. "D. How are you?" He turned around. A hug here, a peck on the cheek there. They decided on what to eat, him, as usual, letting her make the decision.

"You gained a bit of weight," he said. She smirked, punched him in the arm. "So, you drive now? I heard you moved houses." She nodded. "Too bad they don't sell the pulled beef rib sandwich that you like anymore." So he still remembers. "I'm not hungry. I'll just steal your fries, and your salad." He raised an eyebrow to that sentence. The eyebrow that's scarred because of something he never wanted to tell her about. "Salad, really? So they're right. You've changed." Have she?

"You still haven't told me. How are you, D?" And that's when she noticed. Those eyes. The ever-changing eyes that she used to be mesmerized about. It's different somehow. Hollow, much, much emptier than what it was before. She looked at him again. He's much skinnier. Has he not recovered from that overdose they told her about? He's coughing. Is he sick, or is it just a result of smoking too much?

"I'm living." "Just living?" "Just living." "Are you happy?" "No." "Have you found someone?" "Do you think any girl in their right mind would want to be with someone who don't have the ability to love them, someone who don't even want anything in his life? "How's life, seriously?" "Like I said, I'm living. I'm breathing, still alive. Drifting day by day, one no different than the other." "Why?" "Because."

Their meal was uneventful. Filled with silence, apart from the occasional comment on the food, on the changes of the area, on their friends.

And now here they are, sitting at the bar. This place is filled with memories. Them drinking, eating, laughing, talking. What happened? What changed? "What happened to us, D?" "You changed." "I know." She looked at him, and a tear fell out of her eyes. He lifted his hand, and for a moment, he hesitated. It's as if he's scared that whatever he's going to do will bring them back to times they know they can no longer have back.

"This might be the last time I'm doing this." He wiped off her tear with his thumb, and smeared it on her nose. She looked into his eyes, and in that brief moment, it's as if nothing is wrong between them, as if the fights never happened, as if they were back to that place last year when they both decided to let everything go and just be. But this isn't. Things are no longer the way it used to be. She can't do this. Not again.

She stood up. "Where are you going?" "I'm sorry." She walked away. If this wasn't a place so public (though, strangely, it's quite empty for a Saturday night), she would've ran. He chased after her. "Where are you going?"
"I can't do this anymore, D."
"What can't you do? What have you and haven't you been doing?"
"I can't sit there and act like everything is okay between us when it's not."
"I never said that things are okay."
"But I want things to be okay. I want us to be the way we were. Remember that time when we danced in the rain and you promised me that you'll always be there to do it with me, over and over again? What happened to that promise? You left, D. You walked out, on me, on your friends. You left me all alone regretting me saying what I said, doing what I did. You left me to pick up the broken person you left behind, and I bled. I'm still bleeding, every day."
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not. You're not sorry. Did you know how worried I was when you left? Did you know how I felt when everyone else knew where you were but I didn't? Did you know how I felt when they told me you OD-ed and left me hanging after that, not knowing if you survived or died? There you are saying that that might be the last time you're wiping my tears. What do you mean by that? Are you planning to harm yourself?"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't give me that. Tell me the truth. What are you planning to do after we said our goodbyes today? If what we had before this meant something to you, please tell me what's in your mind. Talk to me, D. Just for one last time."
"I lost the fight."
***

Friday, March 6, 2015

Me and you

"I was fortunately in my mid 20s when I arrived at this moment. The very minute my wife said "I do" I stopped caring what anyone else in the world thinks.

I'm lucky that my wife is just as silly and as weird as I am. For instance the occasional duel for who makes dinner with nerf guns. We go see anything that's under $40 for the two of us. (For example, sumo wrestling or professional bull riding)

We have a lot of fun together. And I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world."

I read this in an AskReddit thread some time ago, and wrote it down because of how I felt when I read it. "THIS. This is what I want between me and my boyfriend."

I'm not a perfect person. I have so, so many downs, more so than my ups are. I have tantrums equivalent to that of a 4-year-old. I lack responsibility in certain aspects of my life. I am lazy, I am a procrastinator, I sometimes hate everyone (and everything) around me. Sometimes I go crazy, sometimes I am just sad, sometimes I am not even there.

I don't want to be showered with the numerous expensive gifts that other people shower their girlfriends with. I don't want to be pampered with a luxurious dinner that I'd feel so awkward eating the appetite is all gone. I don't want a large bouquet of roses, or a new phone, or an expensive getaway to places I've never been to.

All I want is plain, pure, honest love. And apparently, in this world, that's too much to ask for. I want someone to love me, bruises and all. I want someone to be able to not care what the world thinks about us as long as we're together. I want someone who's willing enough, comfortable enough to spend the rest of their lives at our own pace.

Someone who wants the same things I want in life, someone who wants to spend time the same way I want to. I want someone who won't easily give up on me. Who would be able to give me a definite answer when I ask him to. Who would have me pop up randomly in their mind and cause them to smile even though they're busy and tired at work.

I want someone who is always excited to see me. I want someone who, knowing the secret wanderlust in me, make plans once in a while to bring me to places, creating new memories for ourselves. Someone who's able to drag me out of the house despite my cries of wanting to immerse in my depression and sleep/cry/cuddle.

Is this not achievable? Am I asking too much? Is this why him and I fight so much, all the time? Is this why now, as I'm waiting for an answer for him, my heart is sinking, further and further, dreading that the answer is not what I want it to be? Is this why I'm sobbing my hearts out? Why I feel like I'm ruining his life so much just by being myself?

I wish I could tell him all this in person. But alas, I've always been one who never ever show her emotions to people face to face. I find it easier to be crying behind my screen, fingers shivering, struggling to type out words that haunts my thoughts. Hoping he'd read this and understand what I'm asking for. What I want.

Mr. Anonymous, are you someone who is there for me, and wants me to be there for you too? Or are you just someone who's simply there?




Your mum reads my blog.
Don't hesitate to let me fall.