Tuesday, March 1, 2016

http://www.wikihow.com/Break-Up-with-Someone-You-Love

I find it funny because most people would love to google stuff like “how to stay happy in a relationship” or are very interested into the “secrets to being super happy couples.”  Or when they are flipping through their Facebook feed, they click articles that would suggest 10 tips to keep their man/woman in love with them.

Today, I am asking the question, how to set-up a break up?

So tell me, how do you actually get away from a relationship?  Is there a peaceful way to do it?  Can you actually go through this process without being hurt or hurting the other party?  Do you think a relationship can die a natural death? 

At the moment, I am only hoping for the latter. 

You might ask me why I am asking such a question.  Let me answer you by another question.  What if I am actually designed to be alone?  What if I am happier if I am just by myself.  What if, I was just majorly influenced by the shouting command of the world, that being alone is depressing?  What if, I was so convinced that the best feeling in this world is to be with someone in your life? Forever?  What if that is actually not true?  That no matter how pathetic you imagine it, there are people who are gifted with just being alone?  

It’s not funny, because I know only of what I feel today.  And today, I want to be out of a relationship. 

It’s not funny because I was in this same situation before and the break-up went horrible.  I became "the monster."  The destroyer of someone else’s life.  I don't say this to many people but the pain caused us both.  It was like a double-edged sword that pierced both our hearts.  But because he was the victim, most people sympathized with him.

I don’t find it funny because I never wanted to be in another relationship after that bad break up.  But I have been swayed into it again and eventually loving another man.  I was hesitant and still am but ended up loving him anyway and I still do.  But our circumstances had changed and I think it’s best that we move on and start living our separate lives.  It’s unfair that I make him believe that we can be together [soon].  He now then tries to build his life for the hope of being with me but in reality, we are looking at years to be together again.  I don’t want to waste his efforts in gearing his life up towards this plan because I lack the faith of seeing it happen.  The agony of waiting wears me thin.  And if I am only being tested of my patience, perhaps it is not my thing. 

Google says, talk to the person like an adult.  Tell him the truth that you want a break-up.  That should be very easy, I suppose?  No.  Not if the feeling is not mutual.  I realized that this man will never let me go because he still loves me.  No matter what I say to convince him that the relationship will no longer lead anywhere, he’ll continue talking to me and will pretend like I said nothing.  Because I still feel for him and moving on is supposed to be a process that starts with a break-up I can’t start it because he doesn’t want to consent with what I want.  So it becomes a cycle that is best illustrated below.




There are only two ways this cycle can be broken.  One, when he stops loving me or two when there is a third party involved.  It is sad.  Because I know he still loves me and I do love him too. But I think there should be an expiration date for this kind of relationship and that time is now. I don’t want to resort to cheating and I want to part ways with him while I still love him.  Is that even possible?  I don’t know.  I don’t know.

Friday, February 19, 2016

Forever (Sinta Isaac & Yien Yanz... A Collab)

No, I need not be the forever you seek
Just the pause between your gasping breath
Just the bitter taste after your hasty morning brew
The fumes that come out from your smoky lips
The swift glances that you throw at the night sky stars
… That is where I long to be

No, you need not do these for a lifetime
Enough are our long night chats
While we stroll under the yearning dark night
While we scour the heavens for falling stars
I just wish to dwell in between the flickers of your eyes
…in your silent yawns and in your delicate strides
The beating of my heart would gladly replace
…the tapping of your fingers when you are enraged

Truth is, I never wanted to be your forever
Because such thing is a mock
What’s real are in those short-lived moments…
Of when a stick of cigarette had passed both our lips,
while we were looking at the creepy moon
Of when our hips brushed when we sat so close in that tiny bus on our way home
Of when I steal glimpses of you when your mind drifts afar
Of when I dared to jump over the cliff for you and you seemed to pay no regard
Of when I saw a little fret when I told you that if I do, the cliff would be you
[And the cliff will be my forever]

Know that when you leave, there will be storms and chaos
All walls shaken, all hearts broken
Hurt me in such a way that the world will freeze

And then that will be my forever.


 Note:
Translated from Sinta Isaac's original work of art

I can never give justice to your artistry my dear friend

Hindi ko kailangang maging ang habangbuhay na hinahanap mo, ang nais ko lamang ay ang maging maliliit na paghinto sa iyong pagsasalita kapag napapagod ka na, ang after taste na maiiwan sa labi mo pagkatapos mong inumin ang iyong kape sa umaga, ang usok na lumalabas sa bibig mo tuwing naninigarilyo ka, ang saglit na lingon sa bituin kapag nag-iisa ka,

hindi kailangang gawin mo itong panghabangbuhay, sapat na ang mahahabang usapan natin tuwing gabi bago umuwi habang naglalakad tayo sa dilim ng gabi, at ginagalugad ng ating mga mata ang kalangitan at naghahanap ng babagsak na bulalakaw,

siguro'y tama na sa akin ang mga sandaling oras na magkatabi tayo sa bus at pinagmamasdan ko ng palihim ang iyong mukha habang nakatanaw ka sa labas ng bintana, nais kong maging bawat pagkurap ng inaantok mong mga mata, ang mahinang hikab, ang bawat espasyo sa mabagal mong paglalakad, ang pagkilos ng daliri mo tanda ng pagkainip, ang lungkot sa pagitan ng bawat mong ngiti,

hindi ko nais maging ang iyong pang habangbuhay, dahil hindi nito mahihigitan ang mga sandaling magkatabi tayong naninigarilyo at nakatanaw sa buwan, habang paulit-ulit kong sinasabi sa iyo na gusto kong tumalon sa bangin ng mines view sa araw ng aking kaarawan, na kapag tumalon ako, hindi na ako aahon, hindi ko nais na ikaw ang aking maging happy ending, nais kong ikaw ang aking maging bangin...


Ngunit, kung aalis, iwanan mo ako na parang isang lindol o bagyo, salantain mo ang buo kong pagkatao, durugin mo ang puso ko, nais kong magunaw ang buong mundo sa oras nang iyong paglayo, nais kong mabasag ang pader na itinayo ko, nais kong mabitak ang mga sahig at semento, nais kong madapa para sa iyo, saktan mo ako, iwanan mo ako, limutin mo ako, sa paraang titigil ang mga oras at minuto, hihinto ang lahat sa pag galaw, at hayaan mong ito ang aking maging 'habangbuhay'... 

Forever March 28, 2015

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Does it Matter 5 Years from Now?

So I received this email from my colleague saying she's not coming in today because she's not well. And I'm thinking whether I should answer her or not. 

I want to reply saying "oh get well soon" because in doing so, I would be the projection of a nice, friendly colleague. Although for some years now, this is really who I am in the office... The nice, chirpy, helpful, "cute" employee that everyone likes. 

But for this colleauge, I don't really feel like doing it! I would feel plastic and dishonest if I answer her because I know she's just pretending to be sick!

What the h*ck. 

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Just Tired

Living does get tiring.  I imagine Robin Williams, before he decided to take his own life saying, "I'm just tired to go through this again.  I'm already 63, I think I'm already too old for this.  I am done."

One can never be too old when it comes to battling depression.  Especially if the struggle comes around again and again and again until you have no other option but to just give up, until one just gets tired of fighting.

One of the tweets pertaining to Robin Williams death said, "when you are sad, tell someone."  I guess for a 63 year old like him, he realized that even friends and love ones can get tired too.  Of hearing the same b*shit and of giving the same advice.  After all, they have their own demons to fight so why should they continue putting up with yours?  And then it will not take long until you find the acceptance in your heart that you are absolutely, without any doubt, a hopeless case. So finally you tell yourself, I'm done.

I am no psychologist.  I am no expert about depression.  I am just feeling a little tired too.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

7th

Tears are strangely falling
As memories are rewinding
Some sting, mostly inspiring
Here... had been life changing 

Tears still strangely flow
There's no way to tell
If these are for joy...
Or for sorrow
That one thing I know 

I will remain this strength
I will remain this love

I will remain this mirth
I will remain to soar
Till I stop searching
Till I stop changing
Till I stop counting

*6th October 2012, Dubai, UAE

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Coffee, Ciggy and Sympathy



(The title is borrowed from Robbie William’s song, Coffee, Tea and Sympathy)A not-so-close friend of mine had approached me one mid-afternoon and asked me a very strange question. “Hey Beth!” (not my real name), “Have you quit smoking?”

Now, you might want to ask me why I find his question strange.

Two reasons. One, I am sure that I don’t know this guy too well for him to actually know me to be a smoker. Basing from his tone of questioning, it seems like he had actually seen me smoke a lot. (Or perhaps I’m just being paranoid. It could be one of the side-effects of these meds I’m taking these days.) The second reason is that... I have on the contrary, smoked like a chimney for the past few days. So I don’t understand why he would ask me such a thing.

But anyway, I chuckled as a reply to the guy and said, “Dude, I’m trying.”

This had made me remember Dok (not his real name), whom I had phoned just now.

I tilted my head a bit while waiting for him to pick up my call. His ring back tune, (Three Little Birds by Bob Marley) had kept me entertained. And as usual, he did not pick up.

Dok taught me how to smoke. I never smoked my entire life, until I met him. I never knew love, until him.

He laughed at my shippish way of smoking. I never knew that there’s a right way to smoke. Oh gawd, I can still hear his laughter echoing in my head when I coughed so hard, almost making me puke when I attempted to imitate the way he smoked.

“You… young lady are never gonna die young by the way you smoke” he said. He grabbed the stick (Philips, his brand) from my fingers. He made it touch his lips (that I loved kissing,) slightly sucked a bit of it, he looked at me in the eyes and it was the first time I noticed that no smoke is actually coming out from any of the holes in his appealing face. I don’t find Dok handsome. But he’s got charms.

“You have to suck it in, Beth. All the way here” he was pointing at his heart. I don’t know why he was pointing it there but in the midst of my tipsiness out of the whole bottle of wine I drank that night, I still remember how he taught me of the right way to smoke.

Like how he taught me the right way to live life. Of course, there is never the right way. But there is always your own, right way. And according to him, we have to inhale the love of the people until here, (he was again pointing at his heart) and don’t let that come out. Just let it rot you, let it spoil you, because their love is what will make you genuinely happy. Take risks, show people how you love, don’t be afraid to get hurt, and remember to never keep bitterness too long here (this time it’s his whole fist pounding his chest.) “Beth, it is important to die happy, you have to put that in here.” To emphasize his point, he stood up and rubbed my head.

I am never a jealous person and Dok, to be honest has never become my boyfriend… (You know that one with a commitment?) But I had, for a long time been silently mad at him ever since I learned that he had found the girl he will finally love. And that wasn't me. He knew about how I feel, but we never talked about it. He is good at pretending that nothing is wrong, but we love to believe that everything between us is so right. Perhaps, because I am never the sentimental, nagging schmuck who will blubber the littlest detail of my pain and agony, of my jealousy and anger. We survived this complicated relationship without much fight, but I know that there was too much of an emotional battle within.

Dok is five years more matured than me. He died six months ago at the age of 31.

I was driving, I drank too much. He was trying to make me smile by tickling me that night. I got the steering wheel out of control while trying to dodge his tickles that had made our car smash ruthlessly against a speeding truck. He was thrown out of the car because he was so stupid not to put his seatbelt on. Dok, by the way, had always been stupid.

Dok said, "Forgive easy, forgive easy, forgive easy." Believe me, I tried so hard to do that. But it is impossible if you have to do that to yourself.

It is a lot tougher because I survived.  He left me with 2 bruised legs and one arm attached with a few fingers that can barely press Dok's number over and over again…...and a cold, dead heart still waiting for my calls to be answered.


Author’s Notes:1. I write for my pleasure. I find it pleasurable to create characters in my stories who are free to love, free to hate and whom I can kill without feeling any guilt. Stuff I can't do in real life.
2. This is fictional. Any similarities to actual situations or emotions are purely coincidental.
3. This story started, when I realized I might have been smoking too much. And I dedicate this to all smokers especially to Micah, because I am always scared of loving you. So sorry, I have to kill you

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

S P L I T


Yen is holding her bottle of Pepsi with one hand, gobbling it up like she is never going to taste that drink anymore. Just like in the commercial, she finished drinking it with a big “Aaaahhh!!” and burped like hell.

Yen. That is what I call her. When I am in my nicest mood, I call her Yen-Yen and she loves it.

Yen went back to eating her noodles that I cooked for her, a little spicy, the way she likes it over a weekend morning. She eats it with a cold bottle of Pepsi. She is in the middle of writing a story and I know she can no way be disturbed for anything. So what I do is sit here in the bed and try to read my own favorite book. I have now finished Haruki Murakami’s 4th short story called Thailand in his book After the Quake. When I rest my eyes out of the book, I stare at her back, take my earphones off and listen to the tapping of her keyboards. It has become a sweet melody to me. And of course as usual, I wait and see if she turns around and gives me a smile. But that has never ever happened.

Yen leaned her back on her swivel chair. “Uh-oh” I said. “This is not good.” Yen never rests when writing. She is always glued on her screen. That is why she always complains about her back pain when she is at her normal state. (And that means, when she is out of the computer.) She said that if her momentum gets disturbed, she forgets what the story is about and then she becomes totally frustrated and depressed. As expected, she put her hand on her forehead and began to cry.

“Is everything alright?” I stood up and asked her. I wanted to touch her, but I can’t. She did not answer. I took the 2 liter bottle of water lying on the floor and gave it to her. She ignored it. She just kept on crying.

“Can you leave me alone?” she said to me.

I just stood there, surprised. This is the first she had asked me this. She would always want me to bring her water, get the power plug on, hand her earphones, take out her blanket because she’s feeling cold. But this… she wants me out of here. This is something different.

“Do you want me get a fork for your noodles?” I asked. “Shall I get you more coffee?”

“I want you to leave me alone.” I am not mistaken this time. She wants me to leave her alone.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, fuck it, just leave!” She is now out of her regular tune. I am sensing her voice shaking and angry.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Please leave me alone, I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to break your heart, I don’t want you to get stuck with me forever. You should have a life.” She said.

“Is this going to be one of your stories again?” I said. I wanted to initiate a laugh. Laugh, like what we used to do when she is at her lightest mood. Laugh, so she would get the idea that I am not taking her seriously. I just thought that if I smile or giggle or tickle her, it might change the course of this conversation.

Yen is a frustrated writer, that’s according to her. Frustrated because her muse is her miseries. She can't write when she is not melancholic. But I believe otherwise. I believe she is going to have her break someday because she has the passion. I know that the big opportunity is just lurking around the corner for her. She has always wanted to publish her own book. I may not be the best judge but I am going to be the proudest if that happens.

I also know that writers like her have the biggest mood swings. They can be the happiest people on earth at one point and can be at their lowest of lows, when struck with with the big "D" - depression. It is always difficult to understand them. It is absurd though, that she is surrounded with a lot of friends. That’s not impossible because she is never boring when with them. She is fun, she is smart, she plays around like a fool and there can never be dull moments with her. Only few people have ever seen her serious, gloomy face. Only few people have seen her cry and I am one of them. But I am not sure if that is one that I should be proud of.

“Do you want me to call Yuri?” Yen can never be with a lover. That Yuri name… I just made that up. There's a lot of men in her life. Men can never understand a fucked-up crazy bitch like her. They are never going to take her seriously or worst it could be the other way around. Men can only be challenged because Yen ~ is not an ordinary girl. There is something sweet and annoying with her. She doesn’t like being teased of being beautiful, because she believes that she is not. She always gets embarrassed when she is told that she is pretty. But I have always thought that she is. Her personality says it so, it’s the whole package of her that makes her the most beautiful woman in the world. Plus the fact that I am always attracted with weird women.

She looked at me straight in the eye. The rage is burning me. It gave me the creeps, as I have been with her for the longest time but she had never ever looked at me in the eye.

I am the only one who stayed with her when she is at her despondent state. I believe that I am the one who keeps it together for her. She always said that she can tell me everything, without any force at all. She had never told me to stay with her, but I did. Even if I know that she can always choose to be with any men that she likes. Men who can protect her and love her and accept her for all the nutcase that she is. But she rejects them all.

“You are a hopeless, miserable emotional bullshit, yes that’s what you are!” I heard one of her lovers said that. “You are scared of your own self. You are in love with your miseries. You are fucking driving me insane! I love you, I love you. Please, I beg of you, love me too!”

But Yen just stood there. I know she wanted to cry, to pick that man up from his knees while weeping and tell him, “Yes, I love you too, I want you to own me. I want to be happy with you. I want to have a contented life with you.” But she remains standing and then she slowly walks away.

“If that is what you want, then I am going to leave you alone. Take care of yourself, Yen.” I opened the door and closed it behind me. I thought that maybe, it’s now my turn to leave.

And then silence.

But I can’t. I can’t leave her for just one second. I can’t breathe without her. She is my life. So I turned around at an instant. I opened the door again and turned the lights on which I don’t remember turning off. She is no longer in front of her computer. How can she move in bed in a split second? That was really quick! I began to wonder. I saw her cuddled inside her duvet and I assumed her to be peacefully sleeping.

“Rest well then Yen, I think you are just tired.” I told her. But she began shaking inside those sheets, like she is feeling cold or something. But it’s not cold, the AC is off, in fact, it’s really warm in her room. I called out her name, while I am wiping my own sweat.

“Yen-Yen?” she did not answer.

I saw a dark spot starting to form in the sheets. I wondered what that was. It is wet and is beginning to spread all over the bed. I touched it. A warm dark red liquid has appeared at the tip of my middle finger. I am not mistaken… blood. Right away, I uncovered the sheets from her. I saw her lying in her own blood. I saw the knife in her right hand and a small piece of muscle in the other hand. I am in total terror... I am uncontrollably shaking. Blood is still gushing out from her throat. I am calling out her name “Yen!! Yen!!” I am shouting at the top of my voice but nobody seems to be hearing me. Yen sliced her throat but before she did that, she first had cut her ear. They were all there, her ear and the knife.

I opened her cabinet, I am starting to feel cold and dizzy myself. I am looking for something to wrap her throat to stop it from bleeding. But the moment I did that, I saw my reflection in the cabinet door mirror, my face and chest all covered with blood…

One ear missing.