Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Days left: 79

It's Valentine's day. It was obvious that he doesn't want me home early today so I volunteered to stay outside and fake a date until eleven. They will be cadoodling for all I know. My heart is dead. I have lost the words to even write an epitaph. 

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Days left: 81

There's not much to report about us these days to be honest. Mine are just vessels filled with work and emptiness that lay ahead as I go through the night. The only solace that I have is literature and the online history crash course that I am currently addicted to. His boyfriend spends the weekends in our rented room and I have developed the habit of hermitism - a failed attempt, to be honest. But nonetheless, I have learned when to care, to engage in conversation, and when to become a chameleon to blend with the surroundings because apparently, lovers do not enjoy thinking about the third person in the room when saccharine thoughts overcome their logic. It is a bittersweet life. I would be lying if I say that I do not enjoy his boyfriend's company - he's a nice and sweet guy. But there are also moments when the darkness just overpowers me that I sob silently at night hoping that tomorrow would be better. I keep thinking about leaving but I don't really have a concrete and definite plan about whether I should and how I'd actually do it. As I said, I have resorted to resignation but apparently, floating in this river is not as smooth as I imagined it to be.

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Days left: 89

R: Am I not enough?

G: Yes.

Is it because of my morning face - of how it somehow fluffs like a balloon when I wake up on lazy Sundays? Is it my hair - my curse of dandruff that just won't break no matter how many bottles of shampoo I use? Is it the way I speak? Or act? Is it because I'm not masculine enough that you'd cringe at the thought of us holding hands in public? Is it because I have love handles instead of a flat stomach that the idea of making love to me disgusts you? Is it because I care too much - far too much - about your affairs that you're already suffocated with all my fussing? What is wrong with me? What do I do to fill the spaces that are lacking for you to love me again? Tell me. Please.

R: Ok.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Days left: 90

One day I will run out of books to read. And when that day comes, I will think of you, and you, and only you - drowning myself with sorrow until the emptiness overcomes me. And then I will read all my books again to fill the gaping hole, and to relive the old days with the hopes of finding you and your lost love somewhere among the pages.

Thursday, February 2, 2017

Days left: 91

There's a difference between being knowledgeable versus actually learning about pain. You can anticipate pain, read about it in books, and act on it like how you see it portrayed in films. But nothing catches you off guard more than when you actually feel it.

Heartbreak is a physical experience. It starts with nausea, with butterflies fluttering and dying in your stomach. At this stage, your hands would tremble, but this usually depends on your caffeine tolerance. You might want to curl up in a ball, or walk out and cry in the rain like how they do it in movies, but it is a warm February night so option B is clearly out of the picture.

Pretend that you're asleep. Pretend long enough until they come in from the other room. Pretend that you're dumb and that you're deduction skills were not honed by an Agatha Christie novel. Pretend that you did not hear the gates open when his boyfriend arrived because you were too engrossed in the book you were reading. Pretend that you didn't hear them enter the next room and and that you didn't wonder where they were, that you didn't check outside, and didn't see his boyfriend's shoes on the doorway. Pretend that  you didn't investigate. Swallow the pain like a grown up and act oblivious of the number of hours they were inside the next room.

Act dumb. Act like nothing happened. You've always been a good liar so use it to your advantage. Hold on. Carry on until his boyfriend goes home and until the lights are out. And then allow yourself to crumble. Allow the river inside you to flow. Cleanse yourself. Because tomorrow is another day to battle.