I know it’s Fathers’ Day, and all, but at this moment there is no one I’d rather talk to than my mom.
Hi Ma. There’s so much shit going on right now, I don’t know where to start. I know you always used to laugh at me whenever I tried to talk to you about boy trouble. You used to tell me I was too young to have problems like that. And I wish you’re here right now, so I can tell you all about this, because I know you’re the only one who can understand, but you’re not. Anyway, here goes.
I’m in love with P. We fit together in so many ways, but I just wish we could’ve met under different circumstances. He’s great, Ma. He’s a swimmer and a basketball player. He sings, plays the guitar, drums, and (I know you’re gonna love this!) the piano. He’s smart and witty and a great conversationalist. We like the same music and share so many same interests it’s almost unbelievable. He’s good looking and uses his charm in every situation so that every girl is left swooning in his wake. But I didn’t swoon. I fell in love with who he is inside, the darkness lurking in him. He’s a complex person, with different shades once you get to know him. And that’s what’s ruining us. We’re both messed up inside. And we’re in a situation with no way up or out, only down. Our fights leave me drained. The similarities we have are the very same things that lead us to our downfalls.
Then, in the darkness P creates, the light is E. E is sweet and gentle and always the shoulder I can lean and cry on when P’s complexity suffocates me. E is my refuge, my safe haven. The one who reminds me I have worth when P makes me feel I have none. All my friends are rooting for E, telling me I’m better off with someone like him. I don’t blame them. E is amazing. He’s a catch, too, minus P’s dark side. And he’s always telling me that he will always wait for me, will always want what makes me happy, even if that means staying with P. His selflessness touches me.
But sometimes I’m afraid of trusting E, too. Sometimes I doubt his honesty, because I don’t believe anyone can be that good and not have flaws. I guess I got used to people like P. And the paranoia is taking over my mind, to be honest.
I want to let go of both of them, but I can’t, for thousands of reasons even I can’t understand. How do you decide between what you want most and what is so much better for you? I need you, Ma. You were always better at boy trouble than I am.
Give me a sign, please. I love you. I miss you so much.
On the day I met you I never imagined how much you’re going to change my life in a span of weeks, but here we are and now I can’t imagine how life would be if you never came. You are a dizzying storm of feelings, a blackhole of emotions. If I thought what I felt for R and S were extreme, then what I feel for you exceeds all the definitions and limits of ‘extreme’.
You test everything I know and feel and believe in. The intensity of your every move is unbelievable, and your complex mind never ceases to amaze and annoy me simultaneously. Your touch burns, as your gaze also does; the way I react to your presence is too much, sometimes to the point of being embarrassing. You are an endless string of questions and doubts and fears and excitement and joy.
You are as fickle as the wind, always there, but never truly held down or grasped. I will never truly have all of you, not like you have all of me. I am wrapped around your finger, hopelessly, blindly sucked into the void that is your world. And I am in love with you. I am, I am, I am.
Ever since I found out you knew about this blog, I’ve been hesitant to post about you again. But here I am again, because, well, this is the end. It won’t hurt to post about you one last time, would it? Just like I thought it wouldn’t hurt to kiss you one last time, hold you one last time, that night. Well, it did hurt, but it’s the kind of pain you feel when you finally remove a knife that’s been shoved into you: it already hurts, and you know when you pull it out it’s gonna hurt infinitely more, but you need to do it or you’re gonna die a slow painful death. Which is kind of what I went through for the last few months, Ryan. Slow, painful and repetitive deaths every time you let me down. And I think I finally decided to just pull the knife out, that night, because frankly, I’ve wasted a lot of time waiting for you to come around. And after that night, I know we’ve come to the end of the road.
I…I hope you’re happy, okay? And I know I’m not, but I hope I will be.
The winning entry for the Obra Maestra competition was designed by PUP BS Interior Design students!!! So proud! Someday hopefully kami naman ang magrerepresent sa school namin hehe 😛 I can’t contain the feels. PUP BSID ‘yan eh! #reprezent
(Photo not mine. I couldn’t take a decent photo earlier, there were too many people haha)
This picture still kills me. He’s so fucking perfect. God.
You know what i just needed this on my blog again okay bye