I don’t want to write about you anymore

I don’t want to write about you anymore.

But there is no help for it.

Not when you still consume my thoughts.

Do not worry.

Half the time, I’m more vigilant with the whole apathy thing.

Isn’t that funny?

That I have to put effort into my apathy now?

That it’s a constant struggle to not give a fuck?

Well. Maybe I’m cheating the fates here by skipping several stages of grieving– already wanting to accept that this will never be anything.

Or maybe I’m still in the first stage of it all.

Denial.

The thing is.. I don’t want to grieve.

Because even after walking away and knowing the rationale behind it, I still don’t regret what I started.

I don’t want to write about you anymore.

Because it forces me to examine what I feel.

What I still feel.

When I don’t even talk to my friends about you.

Not when I can help it.

And only because I need affirmation that I’ve done the right thing by ending it.

That ‘right thing’ hasn’t made us happy.

Being with you does.

But what I didn’t tell you was that I could not share you anymore.

Not with her.

Not with anyone.

Even when you were hers to begin with.

And that I had to end it before it hurts being with you.

Knowing that you still couldn’t choose me.

I don’t want to write about you anymore.

Not when it still brings a lump to my throat just remembering all the things I’ve allowed myself to feel around you.

Not when I thought that someone finally bothered to scale the walls.

To pay attention to the little things and remember them.

To accept my flaws and celebrate them.

So in remembering that I found someone who could do all that, I also have to remember that those things aren’t enough.

I need to be won.

I need for you to fight for me.

Or I’ll fight for a life without you, as Priebe would say.

Because you know I would.

I need someone who will choose me.

Day in, and day out.

I don’t want to write about you anymore.

Because I’m not giving you justice.

I’m only painting how often you’ve hurt me but not how many times you have made me smile.

Or laugh.

Or down in the gut happy.

That is unfair to you.

When I have not written about you those times you have made me happy.

That I only wrote about you every time I end things.

For both our sakes, I hope this is the last time that I end things.

I don’t want to write about you anymore.

Because writing about you means I still care.

And I don’t want to.

Not anymore.

**

A New Contract

Hi friends,

I’m writing this in my best friend’s apartment in Baguio. Where I’ve come to escape because I let pop culture influence my life. So I’m a cliché. And who could care less?

Do not worry though. The following items are not our contract. Well, except for you, D. This is ours. I just haven’t gotten around to telling you. So I told everyone else. Soon enough, only subscribers will know what bullshit I’ve concocted.

Now, D. Here is our new contract:

01. Do not text me. Not in the middle of the night, before the memories descend in flashes, in a deluge. Only do so when you can’t breathe anymore from missing me. And taking gulps of air feel like inhaling and suffocating at the same time. Only then, will I understand why you need to.

 

02. Do not ask me if I do not want you anymore. I will grace that with a reply on the day that I get over you.

 

03. Do not ask me if I miss your kiss. Because I might kiss a hundred other frogs to erase your taste from my mouth. I am that desperate to find  a way out.

 

04. Do not ask me how I am, how I’m doing, what I’ve been up to. You don’t get to have that privilege, not when I’ve wondered how your day  was and suppressing the urge to know all about it, even the parts you don’t tell me about. The parts of your day when it was about her. The parts I can’t stand knowing.

 

05. You will forgive me for leaving (again). And I will forgive you for not choosing me.

Signed and trying not be yours anymore,

J

**

That Thing Called “Valentines ba? Leche. Ulol”.

Nanood kaming That Thing Called Tadhana kanina. Right before Valentines Day. Kasama ko yung favorite gay guy ko. Oo, may disclaimer na hindi romantic interest kasama ko on the eve of Valentines. Paglabas ko ng sinehan, andaming tao sa mall. Yung iba may dalang bulaklak. Gusto ko harangin, tas ihampas yung bulaklak sa mga mukha nila hanggang malanta.

Ampalaya ba? Hah. Pwede namang masamang tao lang talaga ko. Last year ang gusto ko gawin, patirin yung mga may dalang bulaklak on Valentines.

Anyhow, umiyak ako sa movie house. Walang bago dun. Jologs ako eh. Nagustuhan ko yung short story. About the arrow and the heart. Sige na, ako na nga yung arrow. Kasi wala naman daw akong puso. Chos. Kung di mo gets yung context, panoorin mo. Di mababawasan pagkatao mo.

Daming tumawa sa sinehan nung sinabi ni Mace dun sa taxi lane na,”Magbe-break din kayo” dun sa couple na pinauna nila ni Anthony. Natawa din ako. Pero secretly winish ko din yun. Magbe-break din kayo. Para akin ka na lang. Kelan kaya? Char. Oo na, masama talaga kong tao. Di ko kinakaila.

Towards the end of the movie, di inexpect ni Mace yung dinatnan nya pag uwi. Pero at that point, as a viewer, di mo na yun gugustuhin for her. Kasi may promising future na eh. Marerealize mo na minsan, di mo din pala alam gagawin mo kapag binigay sayo yung secretly gusto mo naman mangyari. Kahit na ang press release mo ay, “Gusto ko na makalimot”.

Pero ang totoong tumagos ay yung campaign nila Anthony at Mace. “Wag mo iasa sa tadhana. Kung mahal mo, habulin mo. Hilahin mo pabalik sayo. Gawin mo lahat.” Or something to that effect. Pero mahirap. Alam nyo yan.

Bet ko yung ending. Nung short story. “There was no reply. None needed.” O di ba, gulo ko magkwento. Pero kung napanood mo, kahit pira pirasong quotes na binigay ko, magegets mo. Ang ganda eh. Kasi it speaks of a future na handa magrisk uli. It speaks of the effort it takes para magmahal uli. (Wow.)

Di ko alam kung anung mas mahirap. Yung lumayo at kalimutan na lang. Or to open yourself up again for love.

Ang arte ko di ba. Naiisip ko pa tong mga to. Burgis.

images
Pucha. Nakakainip yon. Gusto ko na lang magpa-Lacuna Inc.

*

Day 06: New Meanings

Hypocrisy (n.) For every day that I congratulate myself for not texting you, I only seem to miss you more.

Numb (adj.) A desired state of emotion when I would not feel anything–after seeing your name. After seeing you in the flesh– seemingly unaffected; after surviving a day without talking to you.

Forget (v.) The whole fucking point of this exercise is to erase you from my mind.

Purge (v.) To begin cleansing my memories of everything I ever liked about you and to teach my mind that you’re gone. Completely. Irrevocably.

Cry (v.) Something I don’t allow myself to do. Not when it comes to you. I don’t deserve your time. Why should you deserve my despair?

**

How I Knew

You are not in love. Not when you remain unaffected by the distance she requires and keeps imposing.

You are not in love. Not while you can’t give her your best. Your weekends. Your worst. Your fears.

You are not in love. Not when your heart stays whole after the silence. After the coldness.

You are not in love. Not when you can keep it a secret and shut up about how you feel.

You are not in love. Not when you don’t move heaven and earth to be with her. Not when you don’t muster up the courage  to follow her to the ends of the earth.

You are not in love. Not when you can let a day go by without talking to her. Not when you’re okay that you haven’t touched her.

You are not in love. Not when it doesn’t move you. Not when it doesn’t compel you to do something about it and fight for what you want.
*

It Does Not Matter

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just want to be able to talk to you and hang out.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

                                                                               “What do you want?”

                                   “Why? Would you be able to give me what I want?”

“What do you want?”

“Start next month..”

                                                                      “What do you want?”

“I want you to choose me. But it’s never gonna happen. So I’m walking away.”

**