Elections!

Well, my friends, let me tell you what bullsh*** we have turned this election thing into. I just happened to see a very old friend on-line, someone I've knows for some 10 years. When I told him that I haven't gone to vote, he simply said that he "didn't want to talk to such a person"! Maybe I'm wrong. But I believe elections to be a matter of personal choice, a decision, a sign of individuality. What happened?

Whatever happened to all that? When did we stop thinking for ourselves and lost every shred of self-respect and integrity we ever had in a "masses are right" attitude? Isn't being political a choice? Is choosing your own path out of the question? Can't you decide what you decide at the cost of sometimes being wrong?

Today, I chose not to vote, not because I didn't care. Not because I didn't believe. I chose not to vote, because voting would have been a betrayal of what I believe in. I didn't vote because I didn't think I had a choice. Anyone I could have chosen to vote for today would make an even bigger mess of all things.

Today, I stayed at home because I have always put my trust in the person I voted for. I might have made a bad choice. My candidate may not even have won. Nevertheless, I had believed. Not today. I didn't even see it remotely possible that today's candidates would have made a difference. I didn't vote out of respect for those who have, and will.

Would it have been better to vote for someone simply because my friends would have wanted me to? I don't even know why I'm explaining myself. I don't need to justify. What I did today was a well-thought-out act based on a belief system; something that most of my generation seems to lack these days.

I hope you, all you gullible self-righteous idiots out there who think you have earned the right to judge, would stop and think what really makes you vote? For me, it was a first not to, because I consider the consequences of my actions and then actually act! Hope you can say the same! Or did you just vote because you're a misguided clueless stupidity-incarnate rat who's the most worthless part of an even worse mob!

There’s No Such a Thing as “Just Friends”

To "IMAN"

I’ve had many "just friends" over the years. And somehow I have ended up having sex with them all eventually. Not that I’ve wanted to. Not that I have planned to. It just so happens!

So here I am now, doubting. Having second thoughts again. Not knowing whether or not to believe that to human beings can totally disregard the fact of the difference in gender and sexuality and just be together as friends. Just be together without being together that essential way!!!
If they can, well, that answers the question of me being another member of the human race once more!

This is how the story goes tonight:

We’ve been friends for such a long time now. More than seven years. And we haven’t been friends at all. Not that it’s my fault again. Maybe not a matter of fault at all; not this time. You, as you may well accept and admit, are with everybody and yet not with them. That’s who you take proud in being. Me, I’m the constant oversensitive, over-thinker that I’ve always been and always will be. You must already know that I lead my life by a certain set of rules that may make no sense to anyone at all but constitute my whole belief system. As strange as that may sound!
Having had a number of one night stands that I hadn’t planned to turn out to be just that, having already had sex with more men that I ever liked to, having been in many non-functional sick relationships, having hurt and having been hurt more than my fair share, I’ve made a point of having a boyfriend before having sex!
And yet here I am.

Lying in bed beside you; lying in your arms; with my skin hot beneath your fingers; with my heart beating to your lips; with my breath hanging on yours; your heart pulsing against my palm. What’s wrong with you and me? What’s wrong with me that I can’t figure out the feelings I’ve kept buried deep inside all the years that I’ve known you as a devoted boyfriend with a loving girl beside you? Why can’t I know if what I’m feeling is just the need of my starved deprived body at its prime?

But as you mentioned earlier in the evening, I’m one of those rare unfortunates who not only know what they do not want, but also have figured out what they do want. I know it all. As clueless as I am when it comes to getting what I want. And I know that even the shadow of a doubt can lead to pain and misery and the ruin of all that you and I have held dear and kept alive all these past years. As much as my heart and body beg me otherwise, my mind is warning me against all the pleasure and happiness that you are offering me for the night. I have to stop you. I have to say no to us. For now at least.

My heart goes out to you. I never knew that I was always food for thought. That I was a mystery keeping you awake at night. That I was the only question mark you couldn’t find the answer to. That in your otherwise simple life, I was complicated and complicating. I’m sorry if it was a problem for you. I’m flattered that even though I never knew it, I was occupying your thoughts so much. I’m pleased that I was on your mind a lot. I’m thrilled that I was in your heart so much!

But I don’t use people, the same way I am never used. As happy as you might be to be used to please me tonight, I have to say no. I don’t have sex unless I have a boyfriend. I won’t have a boyfriend unless I’m sure I want one...

Onwards...

If it comes as an effort where should have been easy,
Maybe it’s another sign that it’s just not meant to be.
When you sit in the dark,
When you keep on brooding,
When all you feel is your bleeding heart,
Keep your hopes up and remember:
Life isn’t and should never be all that hard.
The winter snow will soon be melting,
Your heart will soon cease this hurting,
Soon you shall learn to walk on and move on…

She’s Not Your Enemy.

To "SPIKE"

It seems to be the way of life for people to go on and on about the same thing. People repeat themselves all the time. Hardly ever for of the fear of having been misunderstood. Sometimes for fear of not being believed. Some other times to convince themselves more than anyone else. No judgment here!

As different as she is, she’s the same as everybody else in ways. She kept telling you that her feelings for you were gone. It was no game. No matter of revenge. No bringing of pain and harm to you intended. Did you ever believe?

She started off by denying that there ever were feelings. Might have been her well-justified anger. But it wasn’t always about that. Neither about pain or regret. It became a matter of doubt after a while. There’s no denying that there were feelings, on her part. But she doesn’t know what exactly those feelings were anymore. Not for a very long time. Not since you made your last stupid call. Do you remember?

The call when you said you’d call her again anytime you could. When she asked if you wanted to do that for her. When you replied for both of you. And when she said she didn’t want you to do it for her.

That’s when you released her. That was the end. The end of you and her. The death of those feelings she’s had for you for so long.

Don’t you go feeling bad. Feeling that she wants to put the blame on you. It was good for her. After you hung up, she was still there with you for a few minutes; in the depth of her feelings. And then she wasn’t. It ceased to hurt. It stopped to feel right. It was there, and then just wasn’t the next moment. Can you blame her for not believing it was love anymore? Blame her for doubting?

Anyways, she wants you to know how she feels. Wants you to believe what she has to say. If it’s any consolation at all, she wants to confess that she blames herself for what happened to you and your marriage. She knows that she was there with you because things were seriously wrong with your marriage to begin with; and she still blames herself for having been there with you. She knows that your marriage didn’t actually end until months after she had left you to yourself and your wife; and she still feels responsible. She knows that your wife left you for another man; and she still can’t help feeling guilty.

And afterwards, when you were all alone, when you tried to reach out to her in your stupid ways, she wasn’t there for you. Not because she’s your enemy. Not because she wanted you to suffer. But because she couldn’t. She couldn’t because it would have been yet another betrayal. You know she’s had enough of those to last her a life time or two!

She betrayed her own self-respect when she started things with you. You betrayed her by choosing your wife, while betraying the wife by feeling for her. She betrayed you when she fell out of love. You betrayed her when you wasted so much time. It goes on. Isn’t that enough of betrayals?

She wants you to know she’s sorry. Sorry for the pain you went through, whether or not she brought it upon you. She doesn’t wish you pain or misery, the same way she doesn’t wish it for anyone. She doesn’t care either way whether or not you’re happy and successful, same way it doesn’t affect her if anyone else out there in the whole universe is.

She wants you to know that she does miss the good times when you used to be friends; but doesn’t believe in resurrecting the past. She remembers the good times. She despises the bad, and you, sometimes. She knows that it can never happen again. She knows you, and knows that people never change. You are the same man; same temper; same manners, or lack of!

Anyways, she forgives you.
She’s not your enemy…

There’s no Cure for Love!

To "AIDAN"

That’s what they had me believe. What I thought I believed in for the longest time. What I was supposed to believe. But I was born a rebel. And I always question everything. I need proof all the time. I never take anything for granted. Isn’t there?

He, you, cured me from love.
Or wasn’t love there to begin with?

I know it wasn’t lust. As much as I would have liked for us to touch. But it was on the platonic side more than anything. I’ve never been into much more than kissing and hugging and a bit of cuddling anyways. Wasn’t going to change that with and for him, you!
But then again, I was pretty much taken with him, you. Way into deciphering the signals he, you, sent. Too keen on the smile. Interested. Ready. Open to possibilities, all…
And there were sparks alright. Infatuation? Crush? Wanting what’s bad for you? The beginning? Anticipating? Waiting?

The beginning.

And he, you, cured me from it all. And I should be thankful.
Well, I’m not just relieved; relieved that I didn’t have to go through with something I neither knew where to take or how to end. I would have been so out of my element had he, you, chosen differently. I don’t do relationships. Dealing with men is not my forte. I don’t know men. (Not that they know me any better!) I don’t know how to want and hold on and be my proud self at the same time. I always end up losing one to the other. I don’t know how to want and hold on. I don’t know how to be wanted and to give. Anything out there that I do know?!?

It was a good thing that he, you, knew. You at least know what you don’t want. Me that is! Thanks for making it easy on me. Thanks for leaving me a way out. Thanks for making me back off before it was too late. Thanks…
I’ll be around. Can we be friends?...

Don’t you be a first, please!

I first started thinking about relationships and men when I was about fourteen. I started to think about me in relationships and with men. I guess I was a bit too young. Or maybe too old. I don’t really know. What I know as a fact is that though I was never any good at figuring out how to make a relationship work, or at least last, but I was very good at predicting with whom and how I’d be in a non-functional relationship for the shortest time. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?

I don’t know what to call what used to happen to me. Don’t know if it still does. Do you call it premonition, déjà vu, intuition, when you can know if someone you’ve not yet met will love you or at least lust after you? Does it even come in handy to know in advance?
It used to. Used to be fun.
Not anymore I guess.

And it’s happening yet again. I think it is. This guy I’ve recently met, I’ve known about him for a while now. I’ve known him through someone else for some time. And I’ve always felt that there must be something there. Something cool. Fun. Yet deep.
I’ve always known that we will be good friends.
Or is it just wishful thinking?
Nothing’s happening. We’ve met a lot. And I’ve taken all the first steps. Suggesting to help with something I’m trained very well for. Calling. Text messaging. Leaving off-lines. Nothing’s happening, yet.

Today, as I was watching him, I realized that not only he’s not into me, but also he’s not my type at all. And I still want to be good friends with him. Still wanna share something...

I needed some help the other night. I knew you could help me out. Top that up with me being as much into you as I am, I gave you a call. I think you were with one of your many girls. The ones you even pick up on the streets on your free time; or so I'm told. when I asked if it was a bad time you said you’d call me back that night. You didn’t. Not even the day after. And I was waiting.

I waited two days for a call that never came!

I guess you could say I was pretty pissed. And this morning, I did not watch you come through the door. I looked your way too late. Too mad. And there you were, looking my way, with a big smile on your face. A smile for me...

I then realized that that’s what you do. Every time. Ever since I first stopped you and talked to you. Are you misleading me, or am I misreading the signs?
I’ve seen you on five consecutive occasions wearing the same tie. Not into me. And I’ve seen you looking at me like you needed me to smile, to approve. Into me, a bit?

Frankly, I’d hate for you to be the first to prove that my instincts aren’t always right. I’d hate for you to be not into me. I’m a very good friend. I’d be even better with you. The fact that I only have a very limited time left makes it even more fun. And more in need of your most urgent attention.
It’s not like I’m dying or anything, as you very well know. But I’ll be leaving the country in about seven months at the very latest. I want to take away good memories with me. And the best I can come up with right now would be you. It’s besides the point that you are supposedly headed the same way yourself. Think of it this way:
If we work as friends, I could be your extra incentive for moving forward with your immigration plans. And I could be of great help in the studies you need to undertake in order to go. I’m a very valuable asset, and a very fun one.

Don’t lose me!!!

Don’t you be a first…

Is this LOVE?

It’s been a very long time since I last felt the rush; the rush you feel when you are having firsts with someone. The first time that someone calls you on the phone. The first time you call him. The first time he calls your name. The first time you hear the smile in his voice when he hears yours. The first time you find an excuse to talk to him. The first time he finds his. (Will he, ever?) The first time you plan to meet, be it a date or otherwise.
It’s a different kind of high. Not like that of any drug. (Not that I’ve ever tried any!) It’s when your body, heart and soul feel light as a feather; feel afloat; feel ALIVE.
I thought I was cured of my addiction. How could I have gone without for so long?

But I don’t know if it is love. I thought I was in love twice before. Neither time was I. It was infatuation. It was obsession. It was lust. Love? Never. Or is it possible to fall out of love as quickly as you fall in?

The first time I was so young. Not that young actually, for my ID read 24. But it was a first for me, emotionally, physically.
And he was the wrong one. Even in the deepest depts of my emotional madness, not once did I fancy myself with him forever. I always knew. That’s what gained me the reputation of being a man in my relationships; the ability to keep my brains detached, no matter how involved my heart was. I took all the crap for a precious though wasted 14 months before I broke the whole thing off. I had not caught my losses short though. My life, my soul body and heart, were already different. Bruised and broken. Better late than never though, right?

The second time was with the wrong man again. But I was faster in realizing it this time. Faster in acting on my realization. Though I knew how wrong it was from the very first moment, I could not resist the temptation. Blame it on the circumstances. Blame it on my foolish heart. Blame it on my addiction. All I knew was that I was willing to give it a go while I could.
It was very strange when it was over; how it was over. I didn’t regret having lost it for a moment. I felt like there had never been anything to lose in the first place. I felt relieved. Felt ready to live the rest of my life. I simply didn’t know that there was nothing left to the rest of my life.

Until I met him.
He’s a cutie. I’d kill to look at his long lashes and baby-smile all day long; for many days to come. (There goes the man in me again!) But is it love, this time?

I love the high you feel the first time he laughs at one the goofy jokes you make at your own expense. I love to hear him laugh.
I love the rush when you fall in love.
Love to love…

Tears are welled up into my eyes again.

Life can be such a bitch sometimes. Even more so, people. And they don’t even have to be women to be bitches anymore. Apparently not! I miss the good old days when everything had to follow a certain set of rules. Everything was much less complicated back then.

I’m talking about the days when you cried when you were sad; or shouted when you got mad. When you had the right to express your feeling, no matter what. I miss the times when not everything happened to be a game you had to be the winner at. Miss the times when being a politician was just another occupation and not the only survival method.

The thing is, I’m not even old enough to have seen and lived in those good old times. But I’m a pretty smart gal; well, pretty and smart. I’m sure there must have been times like that. Life, the human race, couldn’t have continued all these decades and centuries like this. It’s unbearable.

How many times can a heart take it to be shouted at and insulted and humiliated and not even have the right to respond, I wonder. When will it simply give its bit up?

I’m only 30. Not even exactly 30 yet. It seems so young when I think of all the years of taking this crap ahead of me. Sounds too long when I remember that I have taken the crap all my life. Is there simply nothing else to life? Is it just me? Am I naïve and misguided to hang on to the belief that life is supposed to be happy? And if not happy at all times, it’s supposed to have its moments?

Pooh… I guess that’s the case. Me, being the fool…

Betrayal Diaries XII

I’m trying to have some peace and quiet. That’s what I always long for. That’s what I don’t get these days at all, thanks to you.
You are a heartless bastard, as I always point out. You don’t care about anyone or anything, but you; your highness; your majesty; you love yourself way too much. Funny thing is, you don’t deserve to be loved at all. You have no understanding of what love is. Take what you do again today as an example:

I’m trying to have some peace and quiet. That’s when you call. I know it’s you. For the first time since I met you, I don’t even feel like talking to you. But I can’t just ignore the phone ringing. I pick up. You sound distressed.
- What’s wrong again?
- I don’t know. Molly called and said she needs to talk. Told me to stay at home, not to go to college.
- You know what? I’ve had enough. Just don’t bother about me anymore. She’ll be happy too.
Do I really say that?!?
I’m amazed. I not only say it, I mean it! I am really sick and tired of your cowardice. I hate it. I hate you for it. But, truth is, I don’t even hate you anymore. What I feel for you is just a shadow of what I used to feel. Is the love we shared already a cooling corpse? So fast? So easy? In like 24 hours?
Wow! I’m amazed.
- I don’t really need this right now.
- Fine!
- I have to go.
- Fine!
I cut the line. Another thing that couldn’t have happened yesterday. Something more to be amazed about. Time, such a short time, it can change everything. It has…
My phone rings again. It’s Molly this time. I hesitate. I’m not sure if I should pick up; or maybe not?
I pick up anyway. She’s mad; which is nothing new! Is cursing and shouting and threatening. Telling me that she’s going to call my dad! What nonsense! I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Seems like her friends have been following you around. She says they’ve seen us together. The thing is I’m not sure about the time and place. Have they seen us, or you with somebody else? I’d rather not go there, not yet. She says she’s going to either leave you or something. She’s hard to understand. You know she’s always been, at least to me.
- My advice to you is that instead of being a bitch, go home to your husband; be nice to him. You want to keep him to yourself, make him happy. Make him realize that as long as he has you he won’t need anybody else.
- I’ve been married for five years. I know how to treat my husband.
I laugh hard and loud. It pisses her off some more. But I can’t help it. Does she believe that herself? If she knew how to treat you, or any man for that matter, she wouldn’t be chasing after you chasing after other women; she wouldn’t be bounding and gagging you to keep you at her side; she wouldn’t ba havin this conversation with me right now; she would be in your arms a lot more, in your bed sometimes!
I cut the line again.
Here’s when you break the last treads keeping me at your side.
You call. I know your phone is on loudspeaker. But I don’t need that knowledge to talk to you in my coldest tone. Meet the queen of ice! That’s what you’re going to get. From now on. Unless you change your attitude.
You’re already a lost cause. What you have to say is that you’ve told Molly that you’ve talked to me at college. And that she’s not happy about it.
- What should I do? You’re asking me not to come to college?
Lost cause. You’re so hopeless. You don’t even hear the obvious sarcasm in my voice and words.
- No. I’m not saying that. I’m saying that we shouldn’t talk anymore. Not at all. Not even greetings and stuff.
- Fine by me. I’d rather not even see you. You don’t talk to me, I won’t have to insult you.
- So is it settled then? And…
- And what?
- I don’t know. Goodbye I guess.
I cut the line, yet again. Good thing for you that we have this conversation on the phone. Had you been here, within my reach, I wouldn’t have slapped you this time. It would have been a spit, right in your unworthy cowardly eyes.
I know you. I know why you mumble on the phone. You want me to know that you’re trying to calm her down; that you don’t mean what you’re saying.
But I’m not falling prey to that anymore. You can’t charm me anymore. Your spell has been worn off for a while now. I just hadn’t seen it. I see it now. I’m free; free of you and your lies; free of you and your empty promises; free of you and your betrayals; free at last…
You call me from a pay phone after a couple of hours.
- I’m sorry. I want you to know that as long as you want me to, I’ll call you. I want to. It will be a lot less than before; a lot harder. But I want to talk to you. I will.
- Are you doing this for me?
- I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this for me. For us. I want to.
- Because if you want to call for me, then I don’t want you to.
You don’t hear the sarcasm, again. Do you ever?!?
- And by the way, I talked her out of calling your parents.
- You shouldn’t have. You think my parents are like hers and yours? Let her call. They’ll make her regret it. They’ll make her hate to look at herself in the mirror. They’ll make her want to die.
What you don’t know is that my parents already know that Molly’s been sleeping around behind your back. They’re not her biggest fans. They just tolerated her being around for you. And besides, they know that had I really wanted to take you away from her, I could have. They know me. They know I tried my best not to be a threat to Molly and her life.
And most importantly, they are my parents. They’re always going to have my back, no matter what.
I told you my parents are not like yours or hers.
I’m just tired of this constant struggle. You’re so not worth my while anymore. I guess you never were. I guess I fooled myself into believing that you were. How we trick ourselves. How we trap ourselves. But one of the reasons why I feel proud of myself is that I’m a survivor. I know when to get the hell out. I know when to take my life and run.
I’m going to take my heart and run.
There’s only so much I can take. I’ve been through a lot with you and for you. You never showed any appreciation. You talked about how good and nice and kind I am; stupid that is. But you never took one step out of your way just to please me.
And today, that phone-call you make to make her happy, that’s the end of it. That’s your choice. I won’t let you humiliate me like that. I won’t buy your lies anymore. You always have a choice. If it’s to please her, then it gives me the right to make my choice. You care for her. I care for me. You look after her. I look after me. I’m out of here.
My heart’s broken into a thousand bloody pieces. Besides that, I’m getting out unharmed, in one piece.
The pain, the humiliation, the self-doubt and self-hatred I feel are blinding me. Besides that, I’m getting out with more knowledge and insight I could ever muster without you betraying my love.
I think of having my revenge. I consider destroying you, and your marriage. But I know that nothing I can do will ever be more painful than having to live with her, having my memories with you. I know that it’s the worst punishment for you to know that you could have chosen differently, but you didn’t. Your marriage can never work. You’ll never be happy. You’ll go on having affairs, looking for what you shared with me for a while; all in vain. You’ll be in pain. You’ll live in regret. You’ll long for me; for the unconditional love I bestowed on you.
You’ll live in hell…
Me?
I’m moving on…

Betrayal Diaries XI

Another morning. Another weekday. Another day at college, with the two of us sitting in the same classroom, pretending not to see or know each other. Life sucks. Always has, always will. You just made it worse…
Hours, even days, come and go. And you don’t bother to think about what you should do about me, let alone for me.
I see you as I walk towards the class with my friends. Despite everything I might have told you, these girls are my friends. They are there for me. They do whatever I ask them to. They feel bad for me. They feel happy for me. They cry with me. They laugh with me. They hurt with me. They have fun with me.
Right now, they’ve just had breakfast with me!
You’re busy with your cell phone. Sending me a text-message?
You are! You’re asking me if I want to go to rent DVDs after the class.
Despite everything I just told you, I’m more loyal to you than to my girls.
We’ve made plans to go shopping after the class. But I cancel on them in a flash. To go with you. To be with you. For about fifteen minutes. I do it anyway.
But we have to sit through the class first. It’s another foolish day of the students giving presentations of their teaching skills and methods. I hate to be there. I’m not a teacher. Never going to be one either. The job isn’t my thing. I have no passion, no patience, and no understanding for it. You know all these. But the selfish inconsiderate man in you takes over again. You have to ask me to be next, in the professor’s presence! You have to get him interested in seeing me teach!
It’s supposed to be voluntarily; but he’s upset as I refuse:
- There are marks for the presentation, you understand.
- Sir, is it a threat or a bribe?
The class explodes in laughter. But it doesn’t help me out. Maybe it even makes the old man more stubborn. I have to give in now. But I hate your guts more than ever for it.
That’s why I keep telling you that I had to cancel my plans with the girls for you on the way. And I now realize that no matter how many times I explain to you that it’s my cry for love and attention, you get angry again. You, you’re so lost when it comes to understanding normal women!
We get our movies bad-temperedly. We walk out.
- I parked the bike down the street. You wanna walk with me?
- If you want me to.
- Do you think of saying that beforehand, or does it just pop out?!?
We stop to talk for a few minutes. I need to tell you how cold and distant you’re growing. I just don’t know how.
- Will you be upset if I find a boyfriend?
You don’t reply. You smirk. You look everywhere but not at me. Your face loses some of its dark color under the ugly beard. You want to pretend you don’t care so desperately.
- Are we seeing other people now?
I don’t have to answer that!
- I mean, I know that I already am. But I still have some roots, strong roots, in your heart; don’t I?
My turn to turn white. I don’t know what pains me most; the fact that you know how much I love you, or that you don’t love me back that much.
I touch my chest. It’s healing well. But it still hurts a little. And you’re there to observe it. You still don’t know for sure that it’s a cut though. You have your doubts; but I insist that it’s just a pimple! Do you actually believe that lousy lie?!?
- It’s a new cut, isn’t it?
- No! No! Are you crazy?
- You were showing it off the other day. But, why there?
You have no clue that I did it on Molly’s birthday.

You’re teaching the class. You’re focused on getting the students involved. Right now one is reading the short story you’re teaching. And I’m focused on you. I want to talk to you. To meet you in private. To make love to you.
My fingertips get wet. Warm and wet. I look down. I’m doing it again. I have my nails in the cuts on my chest. I try to cover them up with the Band-Aid again. When I look back up, I see you’re watching me. There’s wrath and pain and regret in your eyes. I’m scared of what you’ll do to me if you find me alone anytime soon…
And to think that I dare say to you when the class is over:
- Your way of teaching is fake, as is everything else about you!

I simply disregard the fact that you’re trying to get the truth about my chest out of me. The good thing about forgetful men is that they don’t get it when women change the subject!
I go back to telling you that it’s hard to believe you still care about me.
These days, I always go back to the day you said you didn’t love me. Will you ever be able to make that up to me? Will you ever be able to wipe that memory off my mind? Will you?
- How was the birthday sex by the way?
It makes you laugh again. It is quite amusing for you why I think of things which upset me more instead of trying to be happy.
- I still care. It sucks that I can’t talk to you and meet you and be with you as much as I’d like to. But the problem is that I run out of plans for getting out of my flat.
- To me, it seems like you run out of the will to try.
- No! It’s nothing like that. I just lack the perseverance.
- You have given up on me! On us!
Two shiny drops of tears run down my cheeks. That’s one thing I never run out of. Not these days.
We have to say goodbye. I’m the first one to move. I’ve taken a few steps away from you when you call me back to you:
- Hey, hey. Come back here. I wanna tell you something.
I walk back. You grab my arm to pull me close. I, of course, don’t resist. You whisper in my ear:
- Be good, my Chica.
Why do I feel you just use that line as an alibi to have me close?
I feel you’re smelling my perfume, my shampoo, my body, again. I feel you’re fingers are pressing my arm, like that very first night. I feel you’re trying to have me close, keep me close. I know you’re against public displays of affection. I know you have to, because you’re married. I feel you can’t simply hug me and kiss me; you have to come up with something like that to get me close enough.
I feel your body heat through your clothes and mine. I feel your pain and love, your loss and sorrow, your passion and desire, in the broken voice that whispers in my ear. It’s just a simple short sentence. But I hear a lot in it. That’s why I kiss you on the cheek before I pull away. Sweetheart, I wish things were different too...

You’re leaving me alone way too much. For my happiness. For your own good. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know how my mind works? Don’t you expect an e-mail or two, like these?

Hey Boss,

I don't even know why I'm writing to you. You sure as hell don't wanna be with me anymore. And I understand that. We had a deal. I begged you to stay with me till my fucking birthday. You gave in. the birthday is over now. So is your commitment to me I see. Why didn't I see it coming?

You don't come to talk to me at college anymore. You don't call me a number of times a day anymore. You don't go to bed early to message me anymore. You don't message me at all anymore. You simply don't care I guess.
Why do I love you so desperately still?

You don't meet me. You don't call me. You don't talk to me. You’re not with me. You don't make love to me. You don't love me. These are all the facts that I need to know.
You’re getting away, you're leaving, you're... I don't know. What are you doing? I'm still waiting for you to say the things that I need to hear in person. Will I? Will I ever?
And I'm not scared of you leaving me anymore. You have already left. It used to be a nightmare. It’s a simple fact now. Like the fact that I'm the loneliest, most miserable I've ever been. Like the fact that I'm dead inside, though I pretend to live for your sake. Like the fact that...

And I don't even need to curse you. How can I want to hurt you more than you already are? What can I wish for that can possibly be worse than what you have to live through every day?
You’re just so deep in; you don't see or feel it anymore.
Your life, hell on earth.
Your future, as dark as the depths of my heart.
Your heart, as empty and dead as my soul.
Your soul, as dead as my body.

Will you cut and burn and harm yourself physically, for what you do to me? Or is your heart so cold, your soul so dead, that you'll forget me in no time? Will your life ever be the same, go back to normal, or was the love you once felt for me real enough to keep me on your mind forever?
Or will you come back to me for a few more weeks?

You sure don't need me to curse you.
I need you to have some peace...

Bye

And then, hours later:

Hey Boss,

Just writing to thank you. For today. For today, finally, you said how things were.
It's not your lack of perseverance that prevents you from trying to call or meet me. It's your lack of interest.
You don't even care if I'm with someone else, because you simply don't care.

Why should I love you?
Why do I love you?

I'm deleting the chapters I've written.
I'm burning whatever helps me remember you.
I'll acid-wash the skin you've touched, you've kissed.
I'll cut my tongue out not to tell you that I love you anymore.
I'll cut my heart open not to love you anymore.

Thanks for coming out with the truth.
That day, when you said you didn't love me,
That was the bitter truth...

Peace,
Ch…