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Heartbroken Notes: Day 6

No one reads this crap of a blog anyway, and I badly need an outlet.

Today I shall begin the series of "Heartbroken Notes" (Sorry, my grieving neurons couldn't come up with a better title) -- a collection of entries putting down on "paper" my thoughts and feelings as I journey through another road of being a Heartbroken Miss.

It should be helpful for me. We'll see.


DAY # 6  (April 16, 2011)

I sit here alone with very mixed feelings and a very crumpled face. It doesn't help that his face is smiling up at me from the picture frame positioned right next to this laptop.

God his smile's fucking amazing.

So here's the dilly:

Six days ago, I tried to beome a "bigger person" by telling my boyfriend we should probably stop having a relationship. For the past couple of months, we have been treading very unhealthy waters. And it came with such a suddeness that we both did not know how to deal with it. Though crippled, we still tried. God knows we tried, but we just keep misunderstanding each other and fighting like our lives depended on it.

Anyway, I did it for him. I felt he'd be happier without me in the picture. It sounds all so simple now, but God knows it was the hardest thing to have the courage to even just consider. He loves his job, and I am just in. The. Fucking. Way. Of. It. All.

So why do we fight?

My side: I want him to prioritize me over work. It's as simple as that. Especially since school vacation has kicked in, and since we've been dealing with a particular haunting issue together since time immemorial.

His side: He's giving his time to me but I just don't see it. He's been doing everything he can to help me deal with my long-term issue, but he's got to work too. A lot of work! Round the clock. 'Cause he's a pastor.

Hold it.

Yes! He's a pastor.

And no!

Not those Bible-pounding, overly-energetic, constantly-in-a-trance types you see when the cable channels go up in the line of six (6). I hate those. I'd never date any of those. My baby's the very cool, laid-back type. He's ridiculously calm and collected; and he blends in with the rest of the world like a chameleon. He's the last person you'd imagine to be a hardcore servant of the Lord.

Anyway, I love this guy to death. Even the fact that he's a pastor. He's my everything. Truly the first man who made me realize there are so many more beautiful things to life, and that includes being with him. Forever, if given the chance.

The relationship isn't the easiest because being with him sort of calls for a 'conversion' of some sort. Now I made it very clear since the beginning that I was never going to convert from Catholicism to Christianity. But somehow, functionally -- just by trying to be a wonderful girlfriend (meaning going to Sunday services, trying to serve in church [OMG. My friends sometimes swear they no longer know who I am anymore.], and adjusting to a new circle of friends) -- I am somewhat slowly converting to Christianity... without knowing it. As a girlfriend, I became a chameleon.

Now am I happy about that set-up?

I have to be honest: Not always. I mean, what the hell? It's so different from who I am!

So why not let-go of the relationship?

Because he never forced me to do anything, and I want to make him happy. With a little compromising, I am happy to see him happy. And when you truly love someone, you just want to keep the other person as happy as they could possibly be.

So it's been Day 6 since the big break-up. I've moved all the way here to Santiago, Chile to do the grand, dramatic "soul-searching". (Which is mostly true... I also missed the cold weather and the hot baths.)

Anyway, my mind told me to initiate it. I feel like I've always been holding him back from being the best pastor he could possibly be -- picking fights with him or what not; and so we parted ways on Skype... I felt like dying. I seriously did. You know, like there's an invisible hand punching through my chest and unmercilessly crushing my already-beaten heart. Yeah, that's how I felt.

And you know what my mistake was?

I e-mailed him!

Not once. But thrice!

Fuck! What happened to the independent person in me who could handle anything, who flung herself out to the world in the hopes of rescuing heartbroken damsels in distress everywhere?

Perhaps my heart finally caught up to my mind. The pain was just to intense that days and days of thinking about it made me realize... Fuck. I still want to be with this man forever. And I shouldn't care if it's hard because I love him!


Well that's the truth anyway. Up to today. Day 6.



Picture life without him. And try to like it.

Wish me luck.


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