Part 1 of 2
061217: Day 176
It feels like it’s been years since I last looked upon and talked about this heartbreak. I guess this is part of knowing that you are truly learning to live without the love of your achy-breaky heart. At 11:30 tonight, as I type these thoughts down, my head aching and begging for me to get a new set of eyeglasses, I find myself battling to accept a new-found truth I discovered about the relationship which ended between me and My Karel.
. . . . .
When I tell my close friends about this incredibly tragic love story I had, I never miss to tell them that the post-closure event was the most difficult. Either I tell them about it before or after the accounts of badly-and-crazily-missing-him dramas, the reaction I get is always the same: surprised and curious. They would venture further the story because they never saw it coming — that the closure was not the end of the story. And so, I would tell them that I found it most difficult because it was the time that I had to accept that the relationship has officially ended. That even the friendship was pushed back into nowhere. That even recognizing the existence of one another is practically gone. It was agonizing. I could barely touch those realities in fear that I’d lose forever the only man outside my family whom I have set a special place in my life — my bestfriend, confidante, shock-absorber, nakahuli-ng-kiliti-ko, and the man I sincerely loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
I’ve been holding onto the idea that there will never be someone who could be better than him. Someone who would be patient with me when I’m having my mood swings, someone who would quietly wait for me to send my reply to his weeks-ago messages, someone who would understand the introvert in me, who would remember every little thing and memory spent with me, (even as I forget those because I have been too preoccupied with my own little world). I have held on so long and so firmly that there will never be a man who would treasure the things that are important to me as a person, eldest child, student, woman, and leader, in the same way he did. I have created in my head the illusion that he will never leave me.
But he did.
He chose not to stay anymore.
And I was selfish to think that he doesn’t have the right to do so. Because he can and he will, whenever he chooses to.
My heart was so bitter about him leaving me when I needed him and his friendship the most. My heart was wrung in all directions trying to solve the puzzle of him choosing not to stay with me and choosing someone else. I played in my head every possible reason and scenario that I could have missed which led him to the decision of not choosing me.
But one important thing that I failed to see—the most important one—was the reason behind his confession of love for me.
He confessed so that he could finally let me go — whatever that meant to him. He confessed to finally walk away from all the years of loving me (whether that was real or not) from afar.
But there I was, head over heels on him, missing the whole point of his confession, thus falling so helplessly into the abyss of unrequited love.
However, it was a choice we both made. It just so happened that we were expecting different outcomes from the same decision we made — him, wanting to be finally over me; and me, wanting to spend the rest of my crazy life waking up next to him.
I guess, he was right all along when he said that we are like intersecting lines — that we will only meet once, and then never again.
But sometimes I wonder if that was better than the first thing I said about us being like parallel lines — that we have always been beside each other, but never meeting each other eye-to-eye.