Thinking about lots of stuff as usual… Hmmm. At a point where I’m actually quite happy with life and finally feeling like my old self again.
But I also don’t know and can’t say for sure because there are still times when I get so upset and keep crying whenever I think about W. And I know I shouldn’t but I think about him a lot, even after all this time.
Some of my friends say I always claim that I’m happy but deep down I am really not okay, especially when I do my ugly drunk crying and everything comes out. They said so last year and they said so again just weeks ago.
Damn ridiculous because I was really happy that day after having won an award at work for one of my articles (nominated for two awards)… Though just the night before I was lurking and discovered something and got very upset thanks to myself again.
I guess it is stupid to still feel this way even after more than a year… Snapped out of the fog already but I still feel haunted by all the ways he has hurt me. The pain sticks with you.
I still remember how I was always crying over something, even when he hadn’t actually done anything (or am I making excuses again?) though sometimes him not doing anything is the problem. Always so sad all the time and some days I didn’t even feel functional.
But it wasn’t always like that. I remember how some days I was so happy, it felt like I was walking on clouds and sunshine. How everything would feel all right once I was in his arms.
I remember when I was in Hong Kong and Estelle made fun of me and said, “Who you texting ah, smile until like that…” She knew of course, and she also saw how happy he could make me. Maybe I forgot about the world for awhile.
But what she didn’t know was how there was one night when everyone was already in bed, and I sat in the toilet to cry while texting him because we were having a heart-to-heart conversation where we poured out our true feelings (well, mine were, regardless).
I even said I was worried that he would break my heart because we were such a cliche and I could only see this ending one way. And it was once of those times where he was honest and didn’t try to paint me pretty but unrealistic pictures or give me false hope.
I also remember how there was one day Jeremy said with a knowing smile, “I know where you are going later” because I was at work but so excited about getting to see him later.
But more than anything else, I remember the non-stop crying and constantly feeling like crap and endless confusion and unpredictable high and lows. All the tears and excruciating, never-ending pain.
Fact is I really did try to move on and started seeing someone else six months after I ended things with W. I did feel a bit for him and he was one of the nicest guys I have ever known, but W still occupied most of my thoughts then so of course it was never going to work out.
Plus I was way too depressed and damaged to be with anyone else at that time… And trying to find a substitute or depending on someone else to love me when I couldn’t even love myself was obviously not the answer.
But as short-lived as it was, H made me feel more cared for and cherished and loved in that one month than I have ever felt with W. With the latter, I was always wondering and questioning everything. Maybe did down I knew he didn’t really care or love me despite claiming otherwise but I so badly wanted to believe him and believe in us.
W made me me cry all the time but I never did it in front of him (partly because I was secretly afraid that he might leave me if he saw how much pain I was in) so I assumed he was oblivious to it.
H wiped the tears away from my face whenever I was a bawling mess over W and held me until I was done.
W would make me go home on my own if he wasn’t driving, even when it was late at night. I always felt like his convenience came first and I never once felt important enough.
H never failed to send me right up to my doorstep and once even told me not to cry anymore before leaving… because he knew that was exactly what I would do.
W was never there when I needed him. I had to force myself not to call him even when all I really wanted was for him to be there because the fear of rejection was much greater than the desire to see him. I only tried once… He never answered nor called back (all I got was a text… Think what you will) and I never tried again.
H came all the way from another end of Singapore just to get me and send me home.
I didn’t tell W a lot of things because I didn’t think he would appreciate drama and when I did tell him, he would either get distracted or cut me off.
I could tell H pretty much everything for some reason. Even deep, dark secrets from years ago that I never told anyone else. He knew how much pride I took in my work so he always listened to me prattle on. Encouraged and complimented me. And he was a Game of Thrones fan too so we always discussed it at length and I fangirled a lot.
Sadly, H being so nice and different just made everything worse. I felt the contrast so deeply and all the pain W had inflicted tenfold.
Which was the reason why I went so crazy at Montigo with Estelle they all. Because I was hurting even more than before. It hurt so bad that I felt a physical ache within me and I was crying so hard that I couldn’t breathe properly.
I remember wailing about why I still had to go through all this pain when I had already let W go and what else did life want from me. I remember wanting to really hurt myself one night so I hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Usually I would just cry and rant but this time, I smashed all the glasses and stepped on the broken shards till my arms and feet bled.
I remember wanting all the fucking pain to just end. And I never want to feel so low again.
Still, things were okay with H for awhile after that but it didn’t last. I will always be grateful for how he took such great care of me and how he was there when I was at a terribly low emotional point in my life. I’m really sorry about everything, especially that angry drunk text.
That was NOT a good day and I didn’t just stop at drunk-texting H, I also texted W after seven whole months of no contact… Though because I’m such a pathetic loser and still cared a lot about what W thought of me, the text I sent him was very coherent so you couldn’t tell what a bad state I was in. Or rather, that I had been drinking.
It was also a very bad idea even though I’m secretly thankful that W was very nice about it instead of simply telling me to fuck off… Though I think a fuck off or not replying would have been kinder. Much kinder than trying to manipulate me and my feelings again.
Anyway talking to him again just re-opened old wounds and I kept crying over the few days that we talked. The first night when I was in Australia, I actually locked myself in the toilet for 30 minutes just to cry while my friends were outside.
Really shit load of crying and every time I think I’m okay, I relapse again. Just few months ago, I was just on the way back home after a night out with friends. Suddenly felt damn emotional on the cab so when I reached my block, I sat down at the void deck to cry for 20 minutes before going back upstairs.
Just imagine sitting all alone at 2am and sobbing so damn loudly (so glad the cops didn’t come because I was making shit load of noise), desperately wishing there was somebody to comfort me but all my friends were either asleep or didn’t live nearby.
Ok anyway very sleepy already. Might delete this, might not delete this…
Tags: The Great Depression
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