Thursday, August 16, 2012

Locked

Last Saturday, I attended my ex's mom's civil wedding in Manila. She has been a widow for quite some time and we are really glad that she's found someone to be with her. That being said, it also meant for me to see my recent ex, whom I haven't seen for three months, I think. I last saw him when I was still in my suicidal mode. 

People were teasing us that we'd get back together but I was just brush things off. I'm doing good, I looked great (compared three months ago) and I am in no way wanting him back nor hurting seeing his face. He was his sort of usual self, taking photos of me like he used to, and smoking together. At one point he had someone take a photo of us and ended up camwhoring like the old times.

Come Monday, he was already browsing through the photos and had sent me a photo taken from his Canon. I thought, this is by far the best photo we've ever had. It almost looked like...a prenup. On my way home, I found myself unable to concentrate driving. My mind was wandering far off, and with the rush hour traffic, I thought I may not make it alive. I swerve and turn at the nearest corner, found a parking lot and parked. It may have been my hormones, but after a few minutes I was crying. 

I cried for, I think, about a couple of hours, inside my car, parked in pouring rain...how dramatic. I was getting pissed at myself for crying. Why am I crying? What am I crying about? I'm sure as hell don't want him back, but just the image of us looking great, as if no hurt ever happened--just kills me. And, you know that feeling when you just know that he loves you still? I felt that. It hurt me that he had all this love and yet he had to let me endure all that pain. He's probably indirectly turned me into something I'm very much not, at least three months ago. Because right now, I don't care, about anything, about anyone. Heck, I don't even care about myself, my career, or whatever. xx

1 comment:

Niko Batallones said...

No matter how you say you've moved on, there's always that what if. That freaking what if.

Sometimes I do think about what would've happened if I didn't go to Rockwell that day.