Status: Two days and counting

They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit.  This will then be the longest twenty-one days of my life.  But it won’t be that hard, I guess.  The timing couldn’t be more perfect.  I’ll be extremely busy next week with lots of people around me.  Immersing myself wouldn’t be that hard.. Before I know it, more than a week will be gone.  On times I’d be missing him terribly, there’s always coffee and Zafra and maybe, just maybe, a couple sticks of cigarettes.

Adjustment is not difficult, it doesn’t pose that much changes in my somehow routinary life, anyway.  He’s normally away, we don’t really see each other often.  But I am missing having someone I could almost always talk with, from the most significant to the most trivial things.  I miss having someone I can bother when boredom strikes or problems arise. I miss having someone who greets me in the morning. I miss having someone I can confide to without ever fearing that he might spill the beans if he gets mad at me. I miss having someone who will badger me with enough ‘umuwi ka na’ text to make me go home. I miss having someone who’ll tell me not to do this and that because he pseudocares. I miss having fights over trivial matters.  I miss the seriously rare sleep hugs he used to give me.  I miss the rollercoaster emotions we have day in, day out.

I guess I miss doing things for him, too. I love giving him shirts, that’s among the first things we did together. I love giving him medicine because I hate it when he’s ill up there and I can never be with him to ensure he’ll be all right. I miss looking for new stuff for him to try.  I miss the fitting room trouncing.  I miss everything.

We used to have plans for the coming days.  No definite plans, just abstractions of what we would love to do. I hope that he’ll remember me even for just a fleeting moment once he gets the chance to do what we would’ve done should we had stayed together.

Should he change his mind and decides to talk with me again, I hope I haven’t gone that far away yet. I hope he wouldn’t experience from me what the past guys had. Speaking from a me who still badly cares for him, who doesn’t want him having a rough time, I want to protect him from myself. Because I am pretty sure that when I have gone far, I’ll either turn into a beast who’ll want revenge or a glacier who’ll turn him into an ice through sheer apathy.

Status: Is this all it’s going to be?

My dear blog who catches all my rants, whines, vents, and all out yucky-emoness, guess what…  YES! You got it right! How do you know that we are in a fight again? He hates me, he made it clear that I know it.  I feel so low and I couldn’t care less if I am appearing to be a sucker for harshness and uhh, yes a little bit of pathetic. This is how my brain functions to save what’s left of me.  I saw the over-all scheme of my subconscious and I guess a pretty clever plan it is. I can only hope for the best.

I still can’t get over the fact that he aced his evaluation. He’s finally in. I’ve always believed in him, even when he was being pseudo-pessimistic about everything. I can only be happy for him. He finally made it.  I saw him through it, helped him in every way I can. I am proud of him, so so so proud of him. But it’s a lonely proud-ness because he’ll never know or care.

Status: Pure hunch or pure paranoia?

How do you ignore your hunches that bug you with their alarming negativity? How do you try to act like nothing is going wrong when you know very well that ignored hunches doesn’t stop the coming doom?

I’ve been connecting with lots of people in the past week, my calendar full of scheduled trips and meet-ups.  But even with the presence of everyone, I am still alone and lonely.  Tons and tons of people around and not one of them is the presence I crave. Ironically,  it’s the one presence that is drifting away.

I am afraid he’ll continuously slip away. I hope not, I could only hope not.

***

He just called. He made iiiit! He passed his checkpoint.  I am damn proud of that guy.  I have always been, will always be.  Add the fact that he called me after he got the result, when he was still crying with bliss, I am also on the cloud nine Forget the fact that he called other people, too. Haha.  I have to get out of this.

The paradox of being with him is, If I want to stay with him, I must let him go.

Status: Don’t contradict your actions with insincere words.  Identifiable lies sting.

So I ain’t important. Not even a glance towards my direction, eh? And when I tried to voice out my frustration for not having that glance and hug I so crave, my head was bitten off.  Thus, I stop thinking.

Status:  I miss beb very, very really.

The days have been passing by without my conscious mind riding with the waves of time. I have been pretty much left behind while everyone and everything are eagerly moving forward to brand new things and experiences. Yes, I don’t proactively accept change. But I don’t proactively resist it either.  I am just.. passive to everything.

I still hold the old memories of us close to my heart.  On a positive note now. The flashbacks only lights my face with positive, absolute smiles.  They still warm my heart, showering ecstatic and jubilant chills down my spine.

No, I am not holding on to the past. I am not trying to physically prolong it.  But I hold on to the only time that I’ve been ‘that’ happy.  The only time that I’ve had that kind of bliss.

And no, I don’t hold on to the person anymore.  The way we are now is completely a different story.  I have learned to disassociate him with the guy I was with.  I had accepted that my guy already went away, to a place i know not of, and he won’t ever come back to hold and kiss me the same way again.  But from time to time, I have to admit I still miss him.

What we had shook me at the highest intensity and affected me seriously.  To a certain degree, it was even malign.  People say that “You experience the pain but you remember the happiness”, and I don’t disagree with them.  I remember the happiness, sometimes even too vividly.  But it is the same happiness that stops me from chasing it again.  Because from what I had experienced, that kind of happiness has equal, and sometimes even greater, level of opposite feeling which would get me in time.  That unbearable sadness is what I am trying to avert.  By not opening up to the positives, I am also blocking the negatives.  It might not make any sense to you but it keeps me sane.  I’d rather not have anything for the meantime.

I miss beb, I badly miss beb Sometimes, I hope to see again that smile that lights up your eyes when you’re looking at me. I may never really have that again but can you blame me for trying?

I miss and I am happy that I do

Writing has always been a passion since I learned that I could, well, write.  It was the first semester of my high school then, the time when they were picking new writers for the school paper through a conference.  I was chosen for literary section with my elementary idea of love written in an essay.  That was all i had ever written for that year for the paper. Others were just gibberish my classmates loved and praised but judged lacking in elements by the paper coach.

The following year, when I transferred to a new school, I was made the features editor, thanks to my travelogue about the Land of the Rising Sun. My career in the school paper stopped technically at that position. For three years, I was never permitted to advance to higher position because nobody else could do my job. In reality though, I was an all-around staff – news writer, literary agent, features editor, managing editor, added to other tasks in the paper that no one else was willing to do.

But that doesn’t say everything about my love for writing.  I used to write short stories about fictional characters to amuse everyone in the class.  I believed then that I could publish a book eventually.  I wrote to many a poem and posted them on bulletin boards to let them know my wrath. I didn’t send love letters to crushes, I made them essays.

College came and I suddenly realized how lacking my writing was (lemme use was for it really is worse then than now) I stopped until the PR prof advised me to start a blog.  I did, a year after I received the advise.  And goodness does it bring me into different places, literally and figuratively. It opened lots of doors for me but it also led me into lots of trouble.  But I don’t really care about the consequences as much as i like the writing.

Status: Sometimes, the only person you want to say you’re beautiful is the only person blinded to your beauty.

And I hate how much he sees my negative sides over good.  How much he emphasizes my faults, how much he focuses on it.  He drags me down and I don’t need it.  How quick he is to notice my wrongs but will hesitate a thousand year to praise.  If he is feeling some particular happiness and ego boost whenever he does it, I can never be so sure though the possibility is screaming.  I don’t want it, I don’t need it.

I am better than that.  I don’t please his eyes, and I am pretty sure I won’t ever because he wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge my positives.  To hell with it.  He’s my worst accessory.