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We had a big fight over the weekend, a fight that I didn’t even know about. We spent the entire weekend not talking. We spent a couple more days not talking. Eventually, he came forward and apologized and said, “We’re not done.” He said he’ll work on his thing and that he’ll try harder.

But the thing is, he said all that before.

I can’t help but be apprehensive. I’m having a hard time opening up to him, unlike his previous reassurances. I think I’ve learned my lesson this time.

I spent a good hour or two just bawling my eyes out. Kudos to my good friend Patrick Sebastian for grabbing my beers and helping out. I can’t believe what I have come to realize over the past couple of days. It was good that I took my time to evaluate where we stand, but I do not like what I came up with.

All this time, our relationship was based on his decisions and his decisions alone.

I am a smart, beautiful and empowered woman. How it came to that kind of relationship, I do not know. I think I let myself go, thinking that it would signify just how much I love him. I let myself go with the notion that my respect for his opinions and choices can show how much I value him in my life. I let myself go, thinking that he too would let himself go with me.

But that wasn’t the case. He more often than not walks out every time we have a fight. He more often than not rejects me for having an opinion completely opposite to his. To him, I am expendable. To him, I am replaceable. To him, I am nothing but a small niche of his life that he thought he built on his own. I don’t know why it came to that; this wasn’t the man I first fell in love with. This was not that man at all.

Oh and the romance… I cannot believe I let him throw the romance out of the window. I settled for explanations that time changes the way you become intimate with a person. Why does it have to go out the window? Why do the affections have to change? Won’t the partnership have more meaning as time passes? Don’t relationships age better than wine?

I have reached the tipping point, and I don’t know how I managed to say all these to him. I told him everything. I told him everything I felt, and he was just there, listening. I know there isn’t much that I can ask for; I don’t think I even want to ask for anything. He said he’s going to change it all. He said he’s going to try harder. But do I get my hopes up for this one? I don’t know. I don’t plan to. I’ve heard it all before. He said the same thing last year, when we had that fight after celebrating our anniversary.

He left me then too. What’s preventing him from leaving now?

I hope I don’t wake up one day and find out that I am no longer in love with him. I really think we are each other’s best version when we’re in love with each other. I love him, but I hope he’d stop forgetting that he loves me too.

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I have been so immersed in this DBP thing that I think I’ve already forgotten how to write. That would have to be the death of an era. Ever since I can remember, I have been writing. Senseless stories about my neighbors, playmates, bubbles and even the most horrendous pile of laundry ever imaginable – I’ve made every bit my muse. Yet here I am, somewhat lost in what seems to be the alley of forgotten dreams. I do not mean to sound so dramatic, but losing enthusiasm for something that you are so passionate about – well, don’t you think that’s worth the drama?

I got to hang out with Marj over the weekend and I am again reminded of how good I am when it comes to pens and papers. I accompanied her to a designer’s house to pick up some clothes for an upcoming shoot, and went back to their office to log it in the stockroom. She said, the shoot is on Monday and that the photos will be published in the February issue. I missed talking this way, having a particular faculty of speech that need not be confused with math or numbers. Simply put, I miss being part of the first thing I signed up for: the arts.

Marj told me they have about three openings for writers in their magazine. I can’t help but feel excited. Somehow, it felt like I had a fall back plan with this DBP thing, should it not work out well for me. But I can’t think that way; I can’t think that I am not going to make it in this program. This company has a lot to offer me, and I know my future family can definitely benefit from this. Excellent healthcare, outstanding benefits, and constant reinforcement – DBP managed to keep its employees happy. Now that they’re relaunching the bank in a more commercial approach, I can’t help but feel excited to be part of such a big change.

Then I start to wonder; if I do this and I pass and I get to provide for my family in every single way possible, will I still have the time to do what I want? I know that being here is a necessity; I can definitely see myself with a better future here, without a single ounce of doubt. I know that being here, I am starting to build a strong backbone for my future family, and that there can come a time when we don’t have to worry about expenses and bills. I also know that being here delays my desires. When will I write again? Will I ever be published again? Will I ever touch people’s lives with the written word? Will I ever edit a book or do a mark up for next month’s issue? Will I ever meet my hero F. Sionil Jose and tell him how much his writings affected my own expressions? After doing everything that is needed, will I ever have again the time to do the things I wanted?

I am afraid of growing old and forgetting what it’s like to be able to give a person the most compelling drivel of his life. I am afraid of forgetting how to make a person feel like a million dollars. I am afraid of so many things, but mainly, of not being able to say the words that can make a difference. How romantic can I get huh?

In the long run, I still have the dream of being 60 and always invited to social gatherings as a guest speaker. I still dream of having my own gallery of mixed media artwork and poetry reading sessions at night. I still dream of teaching young minds how to “suck the marrow of life without choking on the bone”. I still dream of those things. I hope they don’t stay as just dreams.

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I have been so immersed in this DBP thing that I think I’ve already forgotten how to write. That would have to be the death of an era. Ever since I can remember, I have been writing. Senseless stories about my neighbors, playmates, bubbles and even the most horrendous pile of laundry ever imaginable – I’ve made every bit my muse. Yet here I am, somewhat lost in what seems to be the alley of forgotten dreams. I do not mean to sound so dramatic, but losing enthusiasm for something that you are so passionate about – well, don’t you think that’s worth the drama?

I got to hang out with Marj over the weekend and I am again reminded of how good I am when it comes to pens and papers. I accompanied her to a designer’s house to pick up some clothes for an upcoming shoot, and went back to their office to log it in the stockroom. She said, the shoot is on Monday and that the photos will be published in the February issue. I missed talking this way, having a particular faculty of speech that need not be confused with math or numbers. Simply put, I miss being part of the first thing I signed up for: the arts.

Marj told me they have about three openings for writers in their magazine. I can’t help but feel excited. Somehow, it felt like I had a fall back plan with this DBP thing, should it not work out well for me. But I can’t think that way; I can’t think that I am not going to make it in this program. This company has a lot to offer me, and I know my future family can definitely benefit from this. Excellent healthcare, outstanding benefits, and constant reinforcement – DBP managed to keep its employees happy. Now that they’re relaunching the bank in a more commercial approach, I can’t help but feel excited to be part of such a big change.

Then I start to wonder; if I do this and I pass and I get to provide for my family in every single way possible, will I still have the time to do what I want? I know that being here is a necessity; I can definitely see myself with a better future here, without a single ounce of doubt. I know that being here, I am starting to build a strong backbone for my future family, and that there can come a time when we don’t have to worry about expenses and bills. I also know that being here delays my desires. When will I write again? Will I ever be published again? Will I ever touch people’s lives with the written word? Will I ever edit a book or do a mark up for next month’s issue? Will I ever meet my hero F. Sionil Jose and tell him how much his writings affected my own expressions? After doing everything that is needed, will I ever have again the time to do the things I wanted?

I am afraid of growing old and forgetting what it’s like to be able to give a person the most compelling drivel of his life. I am afraid of forgetting how to make a person feel like a million dollars. I am afraid of so many things, but mainly, of not being able to say the words that can make a difference. How romantic can I get huh?

In the long run, I still have the dream of being 60 and always invited to social gatherings as a guest speaker. I still dream of having my own gallery of mixed media artwork and poetry reading sessions at night. I still dream of teaching young minds how to “suck the marrow of life without choking on the bone”. I still dream of those things. I hope they don’t stay as just dreams.

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I am the epitome of messed up. I am with a man who obviously can no longer be with me, and yet I settly by hoping for him to change his mind. Kung bakit ba naman sa lahat ng taong pwedeng maging akin, yung may ayaw pa saken ang pinipiliko. Di naman siguro ako ganon kapanget o kabobo para din a maghanap pa ng iba. Dapat nga naghhahanap na ako e. kasi kung hindi siya magbabago, wala naman kaming patutunguhan.

Sa totoo lang, naduduwag ako. Ayoko kasing tumandang mag-isa kaya eto, natiya-tiyaha ako sa lalaking akala kong kayang magpabago ng buhay ko.

I can’t keep resting on something so fictional. Sa pelikula lang nagyayari yun. Why can’t I be like any other guy? Or girl for that matter. Yung date one, lose one, wala akong pakialam. Bakit ba kasi I have to be in a relationship to fully feel love? Love and all of its eccentric what not. Can’t I work on being complete without having to depend on anyone? Can’t I be complete by being alone? It’s always that fear of abandonment that keeps me tied in situations I shouldn’t be tied to in the first place.

Am I that difficult to please? Am I that high maintenance that I am only good for an office affair but not a marriage? Am I that different that I am no one’s ideal life partner? Am I that insufficient? Am I that lackluster?

You want to know the worst part? It’s the fact that in spite of all these things keeping me from getting a good night’s sleep, I still don’t want to know the answers.

We have experienced our first casualties: Karen and Rayrand were kicked off the Management Associates Program just before we began with our third module Related Learning Experience assignment. I can feel that this is just the beginning.

Karen said those who were in the red were called in an office and given a good talking to. I didn’t get that at all. So I am thinking that I am safe, after all. I can’t believe that I am though. Module 200 on banking and economics really made me feel how much I don’t belong in this place.

Every day, I can feel the decisions that I make molding me. I am with Patrick and Neil in the Commonwealth Branch for our RLE. Admittedly, they are fun to be with, but I can feel that if I hang out with them more, I just might sprout a penis. That would then be a disgrace in all aspects. I can’t even begin to explain how disgraceful it would be.

There are things that we do out of curiosity. I remember doing drugs out of curiosity, drinking and smoking too. I just hope that this kind of curiosity won’t come back and haunt me. Thank God I have good friends that keep me grounded.

I pray each night that I remain grounded. I wouldn’t want to float away.