Posts Tagged ‘love’

When you said you’re sorry you had to block me so completely, I said it’s okay. Because you have no idea I have to check my spam folder every day just to see if you reached out. And more often than not, you do. Spam is maps spelled backwards. And maybe someday, one of these days, you’d spam me the way. Back to you. 


But instead I sit quietly. Smiling softly through quivering lips thinking. Isn’t it such a tragic thing when you can see it so clearly but the other person doesn’t.


I still don’t have the words to articulate how I feel but I am amazed at how we still obviously love each other. In spite of and despite of it all. WTF.

I have never been the type to harbor anger or hatred against anyone or anything regardless of warrant. It’s just not in my default programming. If I know that someone or something would make me feel murderous, I deem it best to just avoid them and/or train my mind that they don’t exist. 

For the past couple of months I have been harboring ill feelings towards someone I used to think the world of. For the past couple of months, my world as I knew it has been shattered to ugly sharp shards and I’ve been bleeding from and because of them since. 

Lately, however, I’ve been feeling more like myself, breathing a little more easily, the bitterness no longer a kick in the face upon waking. I won’t go as far as saying I’ve forgiven it all or even really ready to – I know I’m not at that point yet. I’m not ready to be the bigger person just yet. I am, however, feeling less small. And that’s progress in tiny, tiny increments but progress nonetheless. 

You see, for the past year and a half, I’ve been completely devoted to this guy who I thought was the answer to all my unspoken prayers. He was everything… Everything I thought I deserved and more. He wasn’t an easy person to build a relationship with primarily because he was the textbook introvert. He claimed it’s been years since he’s had any form of romantic relationship and longer since he’s had a serious one. It was easy to believe him. He was awkward, painfully shy, and it took us months to actually have a real interaction outside of text messaging. I believed him when he said I was the only girl he’s been talking to. Believed him when he said I was the only one he’s interested in. Believed him when he said I changed his life for the better, that I “saved” him. I drank that all in, my ego bursting at its seams. I loved the adoration, anybody would. Anyone who’d claim otherwise is a bonafide shithead. There were red flags that sprouted along the way but I saw them as challenges for me to overcome, and in some ways I did and everytime I convinced myself that I’ve successfully broken down one of his numerous walls, I felt better. I felt accomplished. Conquering his demons made me feel like I was the best version of myself and in a way, I was. I still believe I was my best self with him. No, I was far from perfect but I was patient, loyal, devoted, affectionate, attentive, appreciative, considerate, loving, understanding – all fiercely to a fault. Part of it, I guess, was fear of making the same stupid mistakes I did in past relationships and end up losing him like so. I feared losing him not cause I feared being alone. I feared losing him because something in me kept telling me I shouldn’t. But I lost him anyway.

Backtrack to 4 months ago sometime in August. I noticed a change in him, rather my gut was telling me something was off. I talked to him about it and he assured me that “everything is okay, everything’s going to be alright. Don’t worry.” But the feeling lingered. I remember it becoming so strong at times even when he was beside me that I literally felt sick to my stomach. I ignored it, thinking I was just being paranoid or whatever. Fast forward to October, I found out he’s been flirting (and god knows what else) with this girl since the beginning of summer. Another Filipina who I happen to have a shit ton of mutual friends with. That was a fuckin slap to the face because 1) he made me believe that one of the major setbacks in our relationship was due to the fact that I’m Filipina aka non white and he fears I won’t fit in his family, and 2) he managed to fuckin play me so exquisitely, my head’s still reeling from the fuckery of it all. Of course I confronted him about it and predictably enough, got labeled as crazy and “not knowing what I’m talking about” and “shame on me.” I ended up apologizing like the fool that I am. While he, well, he didn’t even bother explaining. He just sat back and reveled in the idiot show that I was. But as with all truths, his bullshit was soon revealed. I was right all along. Right on the fuckin money, it’s insane. 

Every piece just fell into place. Everything started making sense. The changed behavior, the sudden coldness, his cruelty towards me the last morning we saw each other, his willingness to give up on us… He saw the grass on the other side and thought it to be greener. 

In spite of the hurt and the almost daily fantasies of destroying his face, I have come to the realization that he simply made a choice. I just happened to be collateral damage. In spite all this, I still believe that no one makes a choice to intentionally hurt someone but being faced with one already guarantees that someone somehow will be hurt regardless. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. He made his bed and is now lying in it or with it or on it. Ugh. 

As I’ve said earlier, I am not in any way ready to be the bigger person but I believe I’m getting there. I realized that none of us know what the hell we’re doing and we’re all just really doing the best we can and that includes him. I will keep reminding myself of this everyday til I get to the point when I can finally forgive and sing that Adele song “Send My Love to Your New Lover” and truly mean it. Until then, he can go fuck himself (even if he obviously doesn’t have to. Ugh).

Loving someone who abused that love doesn’t make me a victim. It just makes me someone who’s capable of real love – requitted or not. I forgive myself for that. I am proud of myself for that.

Took some time and guts to finally write about this… Okay, I feel better now. 

PS. TRUST YOUR INTUITION. Always. No exceptions.  

I can’t remember the last time I cried for a patient. Working in health care/medical field kinda desensitizes you after a while, and I don’t mean being less empathic or caring – that dying on the inside never stops. But as with anything you continuously get exposed to or expose yourself to, you develop a tolerance, some muscle, a defense tactic so natural it’s almost by reflex, all to make you seem tougher than you really are or would care to admit. It’s a defense thing. And in a profession where you have to deal with human despair day in and day out, any kind of wall is a must to keep one’s sanity intact.

I haven’t cried for and with a patient in a while. At least not openly. Not til today. I just don’t understand how someone should suffer that much. In nursing school, they instructed us to relate to our patients as if they’re our loved ones – our parents, siblings, daughters, sons, etc. I thought and still think that that’s the most ridiculous thing ever. Objectivity goes out the window along with rationality and level-headedness and keeping cool once love is involved. No projection of any sort is advisable at least not in my book. This is why I can never work in pediatrics or with animals. I know with absolute certainty how attached I could get so better stay away. 

So I don’t know why this particular man, what with all the patients I’ve encountered in similar dire circumstances, got to me, like really got to me to the point of crying like a little bitch while renderring wound care (who does that?!). Somehow and I don’t know why but I started thinking if he was my dad, I would sell my soul to the devil just so we can trade places. I found myself thinking, nobody, nobody deserves to suffer as much as this man is suffering right now. I found myself apologizing to him cause I couldn’t give him a higher dose of pain medication though he probably didn’t understand a damn thing I said seeing how delirious he was with pain and meds and being kept alive when every bone in his body is screaming “I want out!”… that kind of despair and helplessness, that’s hell right there. 

I’m sorry Mr. G, I’m sure you’re a really good person and a good father seeing as how your children are so devoted to keeping you alive (forgive them for they don’t know what they do). As I’ve said earlier in this post, love blinds and makes idiots of us all.

I like being a nurse but godddamn I hate this part.

If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.

Last night, I saw my 3-week old ex on this dating app called Bumble. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse than a Donald Trump presidency… Voila! Thanks Universe. But really, who am I kidding? I’m on it too. I mean, I was on it 4 days after he dumped me. Call it self-preservation or hypocrisy but hear me out. I only went on there cause I thought he cheated on me. I have no idea what I was thinking, I don’t think anybody really does after they get their souls crushed and hearts ripped into a gazillion pieces… But yeah I know, that’s no excuse.

So anyway what is Bumble? It’s this free dating app pretty much like Tinder only with hotter boys and more female autonomy since women have to message first on their matches, actually within 24hrs, else it’s bye bye forever. This hasn’t been my first rodeo in online dating. Ask me 2 years ago and I’d be like no fuckin way. But I realized that gone are the days where people actually meet organically – may it be at a bar or at a wedding or at a party or even at work. Yes, we physically still do meet on those means but chances are those people are on some kind of dating app as well. So the overruling mentality is: why even bother? I have tons of options on (insert dating app here)/Whatever, he’s cool but I know he’s (insert dating app here) too so I won’t sweat it.

I’m sure it’s for self-preservation or the like but there’s something about trying to get yourself back out there and knowing you’d get positive responses esp cause you know it’s “cuffing season” that makes throwing yourself in the swiping dating pool feel justified. Truthfully though, it doesn’t. I knew it the moment I joined. I knew it the moment I got my first match. Knew it the moment I got my first message. Knew it the moment I got my first invite to meet. Knew it the moment I got that first number.

So, I decided. Deleted my tinder and bumble profiles, deleted those apps on my phone. I know I can never be that person who rebounds. I never have and I won’t start now. This is not a race. I’ve long since accepted that I’m always the loser in a break up (why is it breaking UP when it’s anything but up?) regardless if I initiated it or not, and that’s okay. I’m at peace with knowing that I only really entertain anyone when I know I’m rid off the baggage because everyone deserves that. Everyone deserves someone who loves them fully, not out of revenge or spite or getting even or winning, but just because. And I’m ready to hold out for that. Just as I have 4 times over.

Here’s to rebuilding and choosing love above all.


I dreamt my own wedding with a man I’m pretty sure I’ve never met. 

I feel the need to try and document this particular dream cause not only is it my first wedding dream in my entire almost 3 decades of existence but also because of the sheer untimeliness of it all, it’s almost cruel really. 

Untimely why? Well, first because I’m single AF. Newly single AF. The man I, up til like 3 weeks ago, was pretty sure I was going to end up marrying (primarily cause I always imagined him looking sublimely good in a suit – judge me fuckers) left me before we even had an inkling of an altar. But that’s another sob story for another glorious day. Second, I spent Friday night watching horror movies before bed time so it couldn’t have been a side effect of that… Then again, maybe it is ha! Which leads to my third and last point: it’s just improbable. At least at this point in my life. 

Not that it wasn’t a good happy wedding dream. On the contrary, it was perfect. It evoked feelings in me that I never thought I’d have. I was never one of those girls who fantasized about their dream weddings their whole lives. In fact, I actually dread weddings so much that I promised myself I’d rather elope and use the money to travel the world. 

And cause I’m not an “askhole”, I took my best friend’s advice and Googled away. 


  • Getting married in a dream

    To dream you are getting married may represent your commitment to or partnership with someone or something.

  • May represent a union or merging of the masculine and feminine aspects of yourself.
  • May be wish fulfillment, if you desire to get married in waking life.
  • Your unconscious may be telling you that you have met the one you should marry.

I perused other sites but basically, they all say the same thing. Good stuff, all things considered, so I’m thankful more than anything. Hey it coulda been worse. I could’ve dreamt getting married to a vegan or something… Yikes. No offense to vegans, just not my shot of whiskey. Anyway.

I used to dream about my recent ex a lot. Not those kinda dreams, perverts. Just normal day to day stuff. I used to dream about him even when we’re sleeping next to each other. I think I even dreamt of him once or twice since the break up. Don’t laugh but I used to think it meant something. Like he really was my soul mate. Like even our souls can’t stay away from each other so we meet at some astral plane or some level of consciousness. I know I can be incredibly delusional especially when I’m in love. Then again, who’s to say I’m completely wrong/right? 

Reality. Reality does and reality bites. Good dream though. 

Told myself I’d stop writing here but here I am – I have discipline issues.

Writing’s cathartic and I find myself overly zealous about it especially when I’m on emotional turmoil. Did I suddenly become free of all life’s mess that I wasn’t compelled to write at all? I daresay not. But I did fall in love. Was in a real exclusive monogamous relationship for quite some time there with the very person I’ve come to fill these pages about. It was like a fairytale and “shit did become magical.” You’ve all probably heard/read about it from so and so’s sister’s cousin’s friend, like an urban legend of sorts. Girl meets boy in NYC, sparks fly, became FWB then best friends with benefits, blurred lines, unrequited crap, boy relocates, lines get blurrier (more blurry?), girl gets heart smashed, blocks boy outta her life, boy comes back, they go to coachella, romance ignites, boy proposes love, girl accepts, they coupled up and lived happily ever after. BZZZZT. Wrong ending, try again.

Truth is, it was some sort of a twisted modern fairytale as far as twisted modern fairytales go. I was involved in an intense long distance relationship with my best friend over the course of six months. Although the sitch clearly wasn’t ideal, we were that in love with each other – like all other LDR couples are I assume – to surrender to our ideals and naivete and vowed to break all the notions that LDR’s do not work. And I guess, in retrospect, we really kinda did. Yes, distance was ultimately in my opinion the main killer but only because we let it. Rather, I let it. I let it eat me up to the point that I lost who I was and who I wanted to be for him, for our relationship, for myself. I got eaten up, ate it right back, and vomited all over the beauty of it all. I subconsciously succumbed to the negativity and the hardships rather than the positivy and the benefits and in turn, contributed greatly to our untimely demise. Beauty gone Beast.

I can’t even bare to muster how much of a monster I have been for the last two months of our relationship. I never understood the degree of hurt and frustration I put this person through, this person who I love with all my heart and soul and has done nothing but love me in the same intensity or even greater in spite of myself. D sure had his flaws and I have to admit that as minor as they are, they still played their role effectively in waking up this darkness in me. This darkness that I didn’t even know existed – insecurities, immaturities, unreasonable expectations and demands… Basically your age-old recipe for disaster. I knew it affected him, of course. He was always completely honest about it. I just failed to see how horrible I’ve gotten to the point that what could’ve been salvageable had I been a better girl friend/better person the last couple of months became the final straw for him. He told me he was already expecting it, that it really didn’t surprise him, that he kind of knew I would go crazy again despite multiple promises to be otherwise, despite his highest hopes that I wouldn’t… But I did. I so did. And he did what he had to do.

Even so, it came like a shocking blow to me when I finally slapped myself awake from the haze of my own selfishness and saw what I’ve done. I singlehandedly managed to lose the one person I never wanted to lose. I managed to destroy the one thing I’ve been anticipating and manifesting and praying for for close to 4 years now. I guess I wanted to be with him so bad, I put myself in all kinds of pressure to keep him that I managed to overlook one vital thing: he loved me exactly for me.

It’s been a day since that make or break week in Mexico. Four days since we broke up. If you would think being in a foreign, virtually non-english speaking country with your ex-bf whom you still love with the unwavering intensity, spending every waking moment with him, sharing the same hotel room in a paradise beach resort, sleeping in the same bed, sharing meals and countless tequila-infused drinks, knowing it’s over when you could’ve easily prevented it, aching to touch him and be that close to him again when you were exactly doing just that mere days ago or even hours ago, aching to the point that you just clutch your chest as if preventing your heart’s broken pieces from puncturing your skin, to the point of shaking yourself awake from the nightmarish situation you doomed yourselves in, bending your mind so that somehow you can turn back the time and say “Okay” when he said “Please babe let’s not fight about this” and just hugging him and telling him sorry and that you love him… If you think that’s torture, bet your bottom dollar it was. It truly was. That kind of ongoing regret when you know you could’ve easily turned it all around by the things you could’ve said or did but somehow chose not to makes you question why you’re regretting it when your actions obviously proved that you wanted that to happen. I can never fully grasp the power of one’s subconscious but mine was obviously powerful enough to compel me to walk away when I know and was fully aware that I could’ve just let it go and stayed.

I wanted to be with him, 100%. I still do. I love him without question. I know he’s that person for me. I know the last thing I want is to lose him again but I managed to do that anyway. Deep inner issues are obviously at hand and I know now I have to deal with them myself independent of him. He knew this. And though I know it’s some sort of relief for him to be without me, I do believe that he sincerely would’ve preferred otherwise. He stayed with me the entire time, had really in depth conversations about my deep-seated issues and why they sprung up. And though I know it killed him every second he was with me (because it killed me too), I saw and experienced for the first time in my mess of a life what it’s like to be truly loved and cared for in that way, you know, when “I really love/care for you” are just not empty words… That kind of self-sacrifice became such a beacon of light for me enough to believe that maybe I’m not that bad after all; that despite my unbelievable fuck-ups, I must’ve done something right. You don’t just get that unconditional kind of love/care from another person out of nowhere… I must’ve done something right.

I held out for that one person I always knew I wanted. I didn’t settle for anybody who just happened to be there. I was loved for all the reasons a person could and should be loved. I’m still so amazed by his capacity to love I can only wish I expressed my appreciation enough.

From a text convo I had with my best girl friend earlier:

K: Seriously why is this love shit so hard? Is it bc we’ve evolved into such neurotics? I bet our parents were too busy surviving to deal with shit like this

Me: Seriously!!! You know how we feel so bad for them for marrying so young n missing out? Maybe that’s how it’s really supposed to be… Pick the one you want, commit, do everything in your power to make it with each other. We’ve all become so fearful n I don’t know why

K: Yeah we got it all wrong

Me: Or maybe not haha who knows really. You know what though? When D stayed with me the entire time despite being broken up n hurt, for the first time I kind of got a glimpse of how it must be like to be married. Like you just stay together no matter what

K: Yes! It’s supposed to be like that!

Me: Even if you just wanna escape, you stay. Even if being with that person in the same room kills you, you stay. And when I realized that, maybe it’s really not so bad… Now I kinda understand why marriage is so impt to a lot of people

K: We sound crazy. All understanding the idea but not actually doing it

Oh man. Still don’t know where to go from here. I’m still so broken. But I owe it to myself, to him, and to the goodness of what we had to heal. I fully intend to heal but I know i have to forgive myself first.

I couldn’t even begin to fathom how the future looks like or how I would feel if it stares me in the face tomorrow or next month, six months from now, 30 years from now. I guess I just have to have faith that no matter what it is, I will be strong and whole enough to face it and not break down. And smile. Should be enough resolution for tonight at least.