Chapter 4: Notes to Shelf (Part 1)

September 17, 2014

I wanted to make this entry an overloaded page of rants and bicker, but, I lost it after my originally drafted 3rd sentence. Thus, the title.

I am negative, bickerish, overly sensitive and observant to the flaws of others. Sure I get irritated at unmet expectations or blurt out things that I do not mean when under the influence of frustration and anger. I curse, a lot! I even get so bemused at my utterly ambiguous decisions sometimes. To finally top it off, I am moody! It's a family trait really. Yes, as cliche as it may sound, that, my friend, is me. But, excuse me for wallowing in my own flaws, that most certainly is not me... entirely.

On a lighter note, here are the other percentage of me. I am a closet geek. I find bookworms, computer game enthusiasts and cos-players totally bad ass! I love movies except horrifying thrillers. I am trypophobic. I am awkward, according to my friends. I am highly vigilant to boys in general. I love raw Spam. I laugh easily. I was, for a brief time, secretly infatuated with Adolf Hitler and his psychotic charisma. Thus, I am weird... still according to my friends. I drink, oh hell, I drink a lot! I do not drink on down times, I've always believed that alcohol should be a medium for celebration not frustration. I do not hide what I feel, no matter how utterly awkward and deal-breaker-ish it may become. I have always imagined a Truman Show-ish life, so, once in a while, I would glance at some empty space and smile, as if it were directed to someone. I always have snide jokes on every occasion. I can be green as well. I love to read, and that innate feeling of having been sucked into that fictional world has always been the primary reason why I do. I obsess with things, I talk about it every time until I suck out other people's interest toward such. I love music, in fact, I love it so much, I do not want to share it with anyone else. I have always believed that I'm initially fun to be with, so, of course, I most certainly choose my friends. I am very emotional, yes, raw, unmitigated, unrated emotions.

Meanwhile, these are the things that aren't me. I am not a cheat. Yup! I had to place this first because this is the one thing that I am most certainly not. I do not resort to an easy solution to a much bigger problem. I do not forgive easily, nor do I forgive because you asked for it. I do not wallow into the carnal pleasures of the flesh so easily. I do not leave an issue unresolved overnight. I do not lie for the sake of longing company or fear of being left behind. I do not let others hold accountability to my own negligence. I do not want to beg for things that I do not want. I, most certainly, do not tolerate anything that's against my morals. 

So, you cannot imagine my disappointment when he finally told me the reasons why he left. Of the 3 above-drafted paragraphs, his reasons for leaving only parred the shortest one. 

In all honesty (which I believe is also a trait that I possess), I was not mad. Disappointed, yes. Because I have finally arrived at the conclusion that I have, most certainly, lost him. 

I still like to believe that he loved me, just, not me... entirely. I was so ready to settle down since day one, never did I think of even backing out. But, may his reasons really be the ones that he mentioned or there might have been a bigger catalyst to this demise, I can definitely say that, I now know him... entirely.

He was not ready and yes, most people might query why he proposed, even I, but the main thing there was, he was not ready to embrace my entirety. 

The love that he had for me had limitations and it would seem unfair having to win him back, when, he himself is trying to pull away. It's ironic really, it was always him who was fond of reading and watching "advise" articles and films (on the law of attraction, getting rich, paleo-diet or living a healthy lifestyle, and even on relationships), but it was, surprisingly, not him who took it in practice. 

Early this year, we had ourselves enrolled at a 3 day 2 nights retreat for couples who, literally, wanted to "discover each other" before finally resorting to marital conjugation. There had been numerous sessions and testimonies from different (couple) accounts. Although in all fairness, I have learned a lot, but he seemed to have enjoyed the experience a lot more than I have. It was such a beautiful feeling as we weren't really the type who'd share our undertakings and romance to a bunch of random couples. It's just sad that, while I thought he had learned a lot, he actually was the one who threw all his learnings into, for lack of better metaphors, waste. 

I was so ready to run home to him. He was, after all, my favorite console. But he had barricaded himself so thickly that having to push farther through to him, to win him back, only made me grow weary. 

He was not afraid of a lot of things. That alone made me the luckiest girl in the world! And, oh did he wear that courage like a medal on an Admiral's chest! Apparently, I have now discovered the one thing he feared the most.

I've lost him because he became the one thing that he claimed he was not all his life... he coward-out. 

It was not my battle anymore.

Chapter 3: The consoles part 1 (Eden)

My mom had been my strongest supporter. I did not seem to see it before, but she certainly is. 

You see, I grew up in a household of parents believing primarily in intrinsic gratification. We were never really told to be smart, or beautiful, or awesome growing up. Just having to see them smile, nod, and on very frequent occasions of optimal parental pride, hugs and kisses were gratification in its purest form for me. But those were it, no material rewards, no outward praise, those were the only rewards me and my brother ever had. From my point of view, those tiny gestures meant the world.

So, when I was introduced into a household practicing otherwise, it came as the most overwhelming culture shock of my life. I suddenly saw how different kids raised in contrast to how I was were. Confident, always geared towards the arts and highly sociable. At this point, it would not take a genius to conclude how very different him  and I were raised. His family, in all their glory, taught me to look at the world in a very different manner. I, for the very first time in my life, felt extremely and most obviously, gratified. Something that I have grown unto. Over the years, I learned how extremely invigorating dinner/ lunch-outs with the family were, something that I'd rarely experience from my own household. I enjoyed time hanging out with his dad on weekends watching local folks bands, something my own dad can't afford due to his usual nocturnal shifts at work. And it was that significantly spent one-hour mass, that got the most of me. I had a second family, and they were the bomb.

But on the day the bomb dropped on me like Hiroshima on a fine afternoon, no one else felt the damage more than the people that I have overlooked for the past 8 years. It took me a while to tell my Mom. I was initially afraid that she'd pull-off her usual nag of "An attitude like yours? You should have seen that coming!" [that statement would sound totally different in our vernacular, but you get the gist]. Three days, three days of having to fake a smile during meals, of having to wear my sunglasses a tad bit early before kissing her goodbye for work, of having to tell my own mom that "I'm okay". It took me three days to at least show her (mostly myself) that I am a fighter. Upon finally breaking down (for the very first fucking time!) on my mother's arms, she told that she already knew the second I came home late that weary Tuesday night. She was, after all, the bearer of all my primordial emotions. 

And, for the very first time in my life, she had finally declared some sort of extrinsic praise. She didn't tell me how pretty I was or smart I was that I could get any the guy in the world to crumble at my feet; nor did she ever say how unworthy he was of me or how he'd eventually regret having leave me, no. She told me something that had me going through since day one:

"You are strong."

But of course, all her other statement I best keep on discreet, but yes. 

I remembered a friend at work ask me who my best friend was, in an instant, I answered "Godo and Mommy". I guess I had misunderstood the question after all. 

Singularity.

Chapter 2: D-day + 0

August 12 [b/ween 6:30pm to 12mn]

We were, on the night when both [him and I] finally decided to grant himself some space, were scouting for possible prenuptial photo shoot costumes. We were pegging to do something more comical than romantic. I was so grateful at his simple gesture of agreeing to have the whole shoot done in a Star Wars-ish setting, definitely not a movie he was very fond of, but I was beyond the heavens when he agreed.

He was so sweet back then. Definitely not the type to show me off to the world, but I knew, deep in my heart, I knew he had me placed on a pedestal, proclaiming to all known and unknown gods that he'd protect me. Not that I did not need protection, but I knew he meant to have me feel so secured. And, in all fairness, I was. No matter how much I had it all contradicted, he always knew how to make me feel safe.

It was a question of punctuality over commitment. So, on the night of our costume search, when I had asked him if he wanted to go to his office, an hour and some 10 minutes before his regular shift, he gave me a straight yes. We had initially planned to convene 30 minutes before his shift, but, after a series of fits and arguments, he left. It was 7:55pm. He was such a comic, so despite my repulsive reaction to spit all fire on his face, I waited. I waited until our originally agree-upon, 8:30pm. I then realized, I was alone.

He was there, right there, looking so sly and gorgeous with his formally kempt top and perfume. Right on time at work. So, I handed him the ring, his promise of keeping me safe, asking him to return it back to me once he'd finally decide on keeping his promise.

After a short menthol drag, ice cream and a mentally impulsed fit, it finally came to me. At that point, I knew he was drifting. So was I.

I handed him the poison that I have been barfing out of my system for 32 days. I gave him the space that had him to eventually realize that, he cannot make me feel safe...

And right know, I'm starting to believe that, no one can.

Chapter 1: The commonalities of our firsts and last days

Day 32.

How we ended was as unprecedented as how we began.

It came as a shock, mostly from my end.

I didn't really know what I did or did not do to have him feel the way he did.

It's no use to defend myself this time, but in all proverbial sense, I was just being myself.

I told him I was moody, but he still took the risk, both to stay and to leave.

The change that had to be done from my end came very sluggishly, as if taking its sweet time to fully mold itself into something both profoundly symbiotic on both parties.

He, however, changed overnight.

I liked it at first, the thought of him totally walling-in all his then-transparent affect, totally had me fully geeking-out to associating with Sen. Amidala's "I don't know you anymore." speech.

But that instance was something that I can't pause, rewind and playback a million times.

That was an 8-year investment.

So, he walked out the same way he initially walked-in to my life... so sudden.

I might have done something worse than having him look at me in pity after drastically trying to win him back by tormenting myself [which we both have done to each other on very minimal occasions], but, no. If he had been the rational person that I've known him to be, it most certainly should and could not be it.

And so, after dissecting every detail to the least preferred people that I'd have to approach to for console [my family], I have initially, but not so convincingly sold-out to, concluded that he's turning cold feet. However, the theory that struck me the most was, surprisingly, from my Dad.

"He's just not that into you."

Pilot

This is to slowly chronicle the days after the unforseen demise of my 8-year relationship.

It has been narrated on numerous literary mediums how a [love] story has 2 sides, well, this is mine.

Undoubtedly risky, yes, but this is, in no measure, a way to redeem myself from the many faults that have lead to this unprecedented crumble, this is me... moving on.

Chapter [x]: The proposal