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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. 

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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

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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

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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.

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On Father’s Day

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.

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On a light note, I am now well.

Thank you, Taylor Swift and Paramore, for the accompaniment.

Thank you, Monalisa Smile, Flor, Daryl, Hazelourd, and Jimmychooo, for the company.

It was easy to slip down and stay submerged in a dark hole, but I never thought it would be good to get up and reach out to your extended hands of love for help.

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Hey, brain, talk to me.

Tables turned when I became a mom and a wife. Priorities changed. Schedules changed. I even get to embrace routine—something I don’t even touch before. One time, a cousin asked me if I ever get bored. I told her I never get bored. With children, husband, career, and chores, I can never get bored. I cannot afford to be bored.

However, lately, I cannot understand the utter and mere presence of boredom. I was never bored, but now I am bored beyond I can imagine. I even feel lazy! I know we feel lazy sometimes, but to feel it for weeks is something else.

What is wrong? That girl who loves the random, crazy way of life is now dead? I still watch cartoons and read sometimes and listen to music. Is this midlife crisis? Funny because I set my lifeline to end at 60 (it would be a blessing to go beyond that) and now I am 33.

I feel like a muddy puddle, stagnant and thick and really not moving. I don’t feel challenged. I don’t feel adventurous. I don’t feel that spark I feel every morning when I get up. Most of all, I get sick easily.

Year end. I feel okay but not better—not the usual crazy person I am and with a flu! Flu! They say shop, go out, eat out, and see people. I am actually happy with staying at home with coffee and a book. I am not the social type, always have been. I am just brave enough to strike a conversation because its interesting to me. I go out with people I know and talk with them. But these are temporary fixes or are they? When I get home, I feel the same boredom.

Now, this creates a new page on something I have to discover. What is happening to me? I wish I know right away. This is definitely uncomfortable and definitely not good to linger on. Maybe I should write a book or go to Tibet or skydive. Whatever. Hey, brain, talk to me.

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Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

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