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To see your happy family photo gets me going, striving to make a happy family of my own. I know I can’t make it a complete photo since we can never drag an unhappy person, but I am quite content with just three people there.

It was quite a long battle to be honest with myself and a bigger challenge to live with the consequences—you know, accept it and live on.

It’s always been you, but pride and wrong choices were the top priorities of those days. We were young then and I only wanted someone to stay forever, as if forever is real.

No, I am not trying to persuade you or convince myself with anything that would complicate lives. I am merely expressing myself now because I can. There’s a certain liberating effect to this. I am not afraid anymore, not ashamed. I’ve been hurt more than I expected, and few good thing I learned from those experiences were that I should be true and compassionate to myself. They shield me from the bombarding of negative energies.

These days, things are bearable. Loneliness is becoming a close friend. I don’t feel that alone anymore because I know my worth.

As I see your photo, I keep my head above my heart and I smile. I know you made a good decision. I made mine a good one too.

As I see your smile, I remind myself to carry on and that I have forgiven myself.

Love can let go. Love can love from afar and still go on with life with gratefulness and delight. It doesn’t have to be hurting—bittersweet, maybe, but never remorseful.

Just like what Maria said, “Love isn’t love ‘til you give it away.” So be it because such is life.

For

I thought I have a forgiving heart. However, I am plainly hurt until now. I failed to convince my mind to forgive. I hurt my heart in doing so. 

How to forgive? Is it enough to say it? Is it brushing the painful thoughts away? Is it telling yourself over and over that we are all humans? 

I wanted to forgive and forget most of the pain, but I guess I read too much fairytales. Forgiving is difficult when that person lives with you under the same roof does the same things he’s been doing as if he didn’t crush your soul. And we say things like moving on, ignoring, and living your own life. Would somebody mind to give me a manual for these? If he won’t talk, that would have been a piece of cake. 

However, I am starting to wonder if it’s me all along. I don’t agree,  believe, or support him. Why? Because I hate him. Because I depended on him and he just blew it. And now, I am so freaking alone and desperate to be part of someone, anyone who can see me as I am. 

I’m sorry, Deb. I messed up big time. The only thing we are so afraid of experiencing has been here for years and I haven’t resolved it. 

Alone

To be alone
Must be ironic with a crowd
But it must be better to be alone literally
Than to be alone with someone
So close yet so far

but

but you never asked me

you only talk loudly into my eardrums

with your lies and alibis

and those kindergarten reasons

 

but you never asked me

what I need you to be

yes, this could be a night-long list

of wishes and what ifs

 

but you never asked me

how to fix me

and you

then us

 

but you never asked me

you only command and demand

I can only say, “okay”

with half my heart

 

but you never asked me

where I am now

who I want to be

how I want this to be

 

 

but you never asked me

though I asked you a million times

with your back turned

with the TV on

For years I have to put up with verbal and emotional abuse, hoping things will turn out well in the end. When is the end? Is it going to end? I have put up with cold lonely nights, hoping he’d turn around someday.

Then you came. I’m sure you’ve listened to his problems and to his fantasies as what he wanted you to believe. He’s very sweet to you—something I haven’t experience for a decade. He cares for you way more than he looks at me. You spend more time together each day. We spend sleeping nights together—his back turned from me.

You see, I am very tired of waiting for good times to come. I have come to conclude that my husband is not interested in me anymore. He has found love in you. At first, I was devastated and I got sick. Then I forgave him and gave him another chance. He promised he won’t stray away anymore. After a couple of months, he’s at you again. I have read every conversation you had in Facebook. I can see his feelings grew deeper as time passes by.

I would like to tell you that I feel awful. The insult is way beyond I thought anyone can give to someone. The hurt feels like the end of the world.

Perhaps you are asking why I am still staying. I needed a complete family for the children. Even though they don’t like their dad very much, the children need their father.

Every day, I look at my children. Leaving will make a hole in their lives, in their little hearts. That hole will never be filled. I cannot forgive myself if I will lead them down that path. That is something way worse than staying and playing poker face.

Every night, I can see him smiling while chatting away on his phone. Every break of the day, while he takes a bath, I read your conversations. Perhaps you think I’m mad and just hurting myself. But, on the contrary, I would like to become so familiar with your relationship and hope that one day it would feel like reading another couple’s LDR love story.

No, I am not asking you to stop. Nobody can stop love. I respect that. I am writing this to inform you. He has a true-blue and legit wife he wed twice the same year. We are not getting an annulment and there was no annulment hearing. Also, you are Miss B. It fits you perfectly.

You are a woman, and you have intuition like every one of us. I know you know my husband cares and loves you deeply, and I cannot do anything about it.

The only thing, perhaps, which you can do for us—his wife and children—is to tell him to let us go. Let us go and live on our own. I know this will devastate my children, but we all have to live the reality that our marriage is over. There is no respect, trust, and acceptance.

He cannot escape his obligations to our children, but he can live the life he’s been fantasizing about—you together. No, I won’t bother you. I have had enough of hell already. I want to live on Earth peacefully as much as I can and do the things I wanted to do to improve my life like studying masters and reading.

In a way, I want to thank you for bringing out the best in him in terms of health and career. I wish I were the one to inspire him.

Long live.

I made two male human beings as fathers.

First, my dad. I am his eldest child. For some reasons, I am certain he doesn’t like to become a father. Why? He sucked at it and still does. He became my mom’s firstborn after being in the dad zone for a decade. He had overthrown me from my firstborn throne glory.

Second, my husband. If I haven’t gotten pregnant, he won’t be a dad. He could have been be a first-time dad with someone else, but unfortunately, I came first. He was shocked. He was in a state of bewilderment. I can’t blame him. He had a pampered life as a kid.

This should be a post about how great dads are and how heroic they can be at perfect times. However, I’d like to give reality a shot. At least, what’s real in my life. These two males weren’t ready. Whoever is ready, anyway? I wasn’t ready either. My mom was ready, probably; but I really don’t believe that thought.

For a long time, I was given broken promises and heartaches, but I chose to believe that good things come to those who wait. I waited. Nothing came. Perhaps, I lived on the ideals of happy endings and beautiful love songs. Perhaps, I expected too much.

Then I realized, these male human beings are human beings. They are trying to be men–man enough to handle things like a man should. Yet sometimes, luck won’t just stay on our side long enough to keep some small promises like a watch or a private high school or attending graduations because his daughter was a top student. Respect and compassion and the whole romantic man qualities we hoped for can’t stay awake to relieve an aching back from carrying the baby or change diapers or make a bottle at 1:00 a.m. so the missus can sleep for at least two hours straight.

These men are not perfect. They fall, and sometimes, they just lie there on the mud for a long time. But these men are family. Family should be accepted as they are and be helped to become better men. We all have battles to fight and thoughts to ponder, and we all should forgive and accept.

Dear Nana,

I feel like a coward when I think of giving up when your life was harder than mine.
I feel guilty when a thought of leaving invades my mind when you have endured everything.
I cry when I feel weak and all you had was pride and courage and kindness to get through life.

When I think of you, it’s more like having a real heroine a trisikad’s ride away; and all of a sudden, I stop crying, I smile, and continue being me.

Thank you for the courage. Thank you for the love and the never-ending support.

Blog of a Lost Boy

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