I wasn’t that drunk but I messaged you last night. I thought not texting you would be easy, but then again I did drink that night so maybe the alcohol gave me the confidence to do so.
I’m getting impatient. I wish I could just see you now and end everything because this is where it will lead to anyway.
During the car ride home, I asked the driver,
“Have you ever experienced a cool off? What did you do?”
I don’t actually remember a lot of what he says but to sum it all up, he told me
that if we’re meant to be and if I do care for you, I’d have to wait patiently — something I just can’t bring to do.
Also, I decided to stop smoking. I guess it’s part of me coping up, I don’t know. I had a few more sticks left in my Marlboro, but I left it at the bar while I was dancing my ass off. It was really nice you know? To not just care about it. I had this certain smile on my face that night when I was dancing: a smile that says, “fuck it.”
I wish I had that smile when I’m dealing with everything.
Will you reply to my voice message? The “drunk text” I sent you? Will it hurt when you hear my voice? I hope it does. I don’t want to be in this state alone. Call me selfish but if you really do care, you’d be hurt too.
I fixed my resume today. For a few hours, I was able to forget you. You know, I actually thought this is part of God’s plan. He placed me in a situation I thought I couldn’t get back up from. Turns out, as I slowly progress, I think I can manage this.
It’s really funny. Like, I suddenly have no more motivation to work, then you came, then problems with family. Who would have thought I’d experience everything all in one month? I remember talking about how long January is and how fast February will be. But this last few days of February is dragging. It’s really slow. It’s because of what’s happening.
I still blame myself for what happened but hey, I think I can forgive myself. It’s just a thought for now but it’s progress.
I’m taking my time now to reassess what I really want in my life. I pray that I can get to the interview part at least because it’s enough sign that I’m moving forward with my life and not being complacent with my comfort zone.
Will I quit my job this year? Let’s see. Will I stop applying? No. Will I continue to write like I’m talking to you? Yes.
“you weren’t even worth being properly let go”
I’m mad. I’m so mad.
I went outside to check Elorde (a boxing gym) and see how much rates are. And when I was going back, I saw you. I wanted to approach you. I really do, I swear. Even before I went to Elorde, I was mad. At myself. When I saw you, the feeling of me wanting to approach you suddenly turned to anger.
I saw you smile. That same smile you give me and it’s being received by someone else. I don’t know if he’s your friend. I hope he is just a friend. But here I am overthinking and because of that my rage just went up. I’m mad. I’m so mad. Could we just end this? You’re a coward. You. Can’t. Even. Face. Me. And. Say. We’re. Done.
THAT’S ALL I NEED WHY CANT YOU GIVE ME REST????
So I spoke to Eunice’s boyfriend. We told him if he believes in cool off. He said “no.”
There’s no such thing as a three way switch in a relationship; just on and off.
He also said that you have the right to feel that emptiness and you’re not supposed to look for it with another person. It’s an individual thing.
I’m so selfish. I made it all about me. How I’m hurting. Not even thinking that you may be hurting too. I wish I just said,
“It’s okay. I understand. Take as much time as you need. I’m here for you and I won’t give up and I hope, so will you.”
Now. I don’t know what to feel. I deleted your number and our messages so I have no means of reaching out to you.
He also told me, that if we can’t resolve this, I might as well let you go. If it’s a cool off, it means that you have something greater in mind for yourself and I’m not included in that. I have to give it to you. I don’t own you and you don’t own me. It’s for your growth.
Funny thing is, I stopped smoking, but here I am drinking every night. Just to keep myself sane, and not inflict self-pain. Although I really want to punch the wall.