Until I found my life again, I drown. So save me now.

It takes time

To heal when you hurt so fucking much.

I suppose I don't realize how badly my heart was broken until these moments of happiness and hope are terribly ruined with various information that I don't need but can't help but ask for. Tonight, I found out he took his new baby love to 48 Maywood Ave. Nobody knows if he introduced her to the family or what but upon this revelation, I felt my chest ache with that ache that no drug can cure and no run to the ER can relieve. This would not be my death. I've overcome the hardest part - that much I know. I was just so thankful I was with a guy who has potential to be in my long-term future that I was able to hold myself together and not breakdown as I did when I was first told about the new girl. I can't help it. The tears just keep gushing out like the alcohol I've been chugging in the moment I got out of the car. I hope this new guy realizes that my extended tight hug was in gratitude for this night that I so would treasure. Step by step, I am healing.

Earlier today, I thought it was so strong of me to throw out the letters and the contents of our memory box. I can't bring myself to call it the X-Box really... because while I have grown accustomed to calling him my Ex, I cannot desecrate the special non-sense that are our mementos. I wonder what he has done to the stuff I returned in my anger that day I found the Valentine's Day tickets. I wonder how Princess Mumbles is, the very first and most special of everything he gave me; first, because he gave me the well-dressed bear on our first month together when my plans of getting him something were overshadowed and forgotten by the plan of recovering the money that was stolen from me that day. Second, because it came as an absolute surprise along with a blue rose and he kept it all hidden in the car and he waited for the end of our shift to drag me to the parking lot to give. (Now I realize it was such a romantic and thoughtful gesture.) Third, because Princess Mumbles was my comfort on those whole three months of break-up limbo. (Shall he come back to me or shall he end up with the hoebag I had the inkling was slowly stealing him from me?) Last, because... I know this is the last thing that would remind him of how beautiful our love was.

Judging by what he did to the soccer ball pillow his ex before me gave him, I'm guessing Princess Mumbles is nowhere near his room nor his house anymore.

So last night, I transferred condos and I discovered the most tragic thing. For unknown reasons, water got into my room and damaged everything on the floor. It was mighty a sign from God, I think. It was what prompted me to open the box. His 6th grade graduation photo was saved by some arcane force because the Lord knows that would mean to him more than to me when I send it back. But the letters, especially the two-page typewritten one that he came up with to convince me not to leave him on our first year, were soaked to the last shred. I tried to read them - because I didn't think I ever could again with how badly they were damaged. All his feelings and proof of his love where no longer of use for anything but the recycle bin, where they were meant to be in anyway months ago. I am ever the sentimental hoarder who keeps everything not because of what they mean to me but for their artistic value.

I am left with mixed emotions about moving on entirely and doing well. Thank God Bella confirmed that I feel this way not because I want him back but because I miss being the person treated so exceptionally. I can take comfort in the thought that I am a good person for letting him just be happy and not degrading myself to those former flames to stalk and ruin their beloved's pursuit of happyness. Good people are rewarded bountifully. And if I only took the time to look, I would see that I am that exceptional person to several new prospects. All I have to do is choose. But no, he is not one of the choices.

It's over. I am over it. It's just that broken hearts don't heal as fast as we expect them to. We just have to patiently let it.

(Edit: Two minutes upon writing this, my tears stopped and I am smiling for the good stuff again. ^_^)

posted by Ketch Pablo @ 6:42 AM 5 comments

I am the Flavor of the Month

Hello Canada! I ♥ Canadians. Thank you.

I sort-of have this sort-of love affair with a co-worker. It's the sort-of kind of thing because although we mostly know what goes on in each other's daily lives, we have had a total of three face-to-face interactions (and by interactions, that include our first acquaintance when we talked all about work, our "Devil date" that had us talking for two hours tops because I still had to go to work, and the "Hey!" we exchanged when we crossed each other at the turnstile on my lunch break). I have convinced myself that our sort-of thing has not blossomed because our schedules did not allow us to spend more time together, or so I thought. (Wrong!) It was just nice to think that I lost B because God knew I deserve someone better... I deserve an "Ace". (Even more wrong!) But it was comforting. There was just one hurdle for my little lame fantasy - on top of my list of NOT to date: co-workers. For obvvvious reasons. This has been my self-imposed restriction way before Barney educated us on his Platinum rule.

These days I keep thinking about those times when I succumbed to office romance. At this point, I will not write about why and when and how. Let's focus on what these made me realize for the present. There were only two instances when I tried to mix work and pleasure - the first crashed and burned sooner than I even realized that we were already dating and that I had already dumped him and the second, well, crashed and burned the moment we set off for different careers. The only difference between those times and this time is... I had enough to work with then in convincing myself to give in than what this guy I have come to call Koko Krunch offers. (We were consistently sexting and one day, Poooft! he became Koko Krunch. Gone from the face of the earth.)

While I was taking the 21-day gameplay/strategy into consideration, I realized I just had to accept that he is just not that into me (Thank you, Greg!). I shall not over-analyze nor make excuses for him. I'll take the situation for what it is. And I will give thanks to the universe for making me see what a mess I am getting myself into. Again. I plan to make it big at work. Some dude bragging about our sexts would only jeopardize that. At my age, I don't have the luxury to take a wrong step in the career ladder anymore.

Next issue: Second on  my list of NOT to date: dudes in clubs/bars

posted by Ketch Pablo @ 8:25 AM 1 comments

The Dream within the Dream

Inception moment last night. Slept at 4 and somewhere into my subconscious, I found myself on the passenger seat of your Vios and we were going south on Mac Blvd. You were telling me about how exhausting your work was and when I told you never to torture yourself with a job that no longer fulfills you, I realized this could not have been reality. So I got upset and asked you what the hell you were doing in my dream. You have no fucking place in my mind. You stared at me like I was a mad man and tried to reasoned that it was all real and  not a dream. I bit on my arms and when I felt no pain, I knew I just had to wake up. I became hysterical and cried and screamed with all my might. Finally I jolted awake.

I was in a strange bed in a strange room but all my stuff were there - my closet, my side table, my full-length mirror, even that thingy on my wall where I hang my bangles. I stepped out of the room and  saw my parents' house. I went in to use the phone and dialed your home number. When a woman's unfamiliar voice picked up, I realized I was still fucking dreaming. Sick! I tried to enjoy it a bit more, went back to my room and saw a French maid's outfit in a hanger. Some kinky paraphernalia is what it was, complete with a whip, a gag and blindfolds. Tsk.

I don't quite remember how but I eventually woke up for real beside my sister at 7. Flip. To think that I only had 2 and a half bottles of Tanduay Ice.

posted by Ketch Pablo @ 9:46 AM 0 comments