I Have Never Been This Honest In My Life

Being honest with yourself is the most difficult thing to do. I ended up puking my guts out and shaking so badly. My knees buckled. I couldn’t sleep. And that was pure bullshit. Because I kept on denying and denying and denying what I feel. When in fact, it’s stamped across my face. And I just didn’t want to acknowledge it because that, my friends, is my defense mechanism. Because in being honest with myself, I would be the one at the losing end. And yes, I actually am.

Being bothered to the point where I felt queasy and nauseous and I had to vomit? That’s the first time that happened to me. I can’t remember a time, or a moment, when I just had to sit down and think and lie down and try to sleep and feel my tummy roll and shit and puke because of what I just realized. It took me how many months to realize that one thing, and weeks about the other. All involving you (you gave me a few of my first times. I really hope you were sincere in saying that you felt honored about the other ones).

I puked my guts out. I wasn’t even drunk or anything. I just had to because it was so uncomfortable. I still feel uncomfortable. And do you even know what I’m going through? No. Do you even go through what I’m going through? No.

It’s just that the sad thing about this kind of “bothered” is I’m the only one bothered. While, you, the person who is in my head can sleep, have fun, and does not even think about me. You’re probably up now and on your way to training. But God, I am bothered. Really, really bothered.

I thought I just wanted a day of experiencing you. I thought it would be enough. I was wrong. I keep wondering do you even think about me, do you feel guilty, do you have regrets. I just want to sleep, damn it. Sleepless nights since we did what would happen inevitably, only it happened sooner than what I expected. I actually wasn’t even expecting that to happen. But I had to fucking push you on the edge. Why did I do that. And God, I remember when you just stared at me like I’m really a beautiful person. And I hate that. I swear what got me into this mess was when you put my glasses on me, touched my chin, and said, “You’re beautiful.” You were a fucking gentleman. And I was the skank.

You’re happy with her. I get it. And I’m genuinely happy that you’re okay, you and her. You have a cool relationship. One that I want. Because, for the most part, you are half of that relationship. Please don’t tell her about what transpired between us because it would crush us both.

And now, I’ve been honest with myself. It’s still sinking in. I’m still trying to digest what I just realized. I don’t know when I will come to terms with that. But God, please, be kind to me. My cousin told me, “It’s like you made a bet with yourself and you lost.” and from the start I already knew I would lose. And I really am baffled, confused, exasperated, because I know this is impossible. But it’s there. I’m sorry.

Seriously hating myself right now. So, it appears that you’re really one of the reasons why my ex and I broke up and why I wouldn’t take him back. When he suggested it, I thought it absurd. But there you go.

Shit really happens and I can’t take it that it has to happen with you. You don’t have to know this. And I’m planning not to tell you. This is goodbye. I know, dramatic. But we’ve known that since we first talked. You shouldn’t have been nice to me. I’m really sorry.

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I Actually Don’t Love You Anymore

For two years, I lived with a noose around my neck. That’s how our relationship felt like. You admitted that you couldn’t trust me because I say I love you to my friends, boys and girls alike. You went berserk the first time you went through my Facebook messages without permission and broke up with me because of that. That was the first time, and when we got back together, you “ruled” the relationship with an iron fist. I was a jealous and possessive person, but only because (and you admitted to it too) you would make me jealous on purpose. With everyone. That sucked, you know. I don’t know why I stayed.

Anyway. You didn’t, couldn’t accept the fact that I’m a bisexual. You kept saying “But you’re in a relationship with me. You can’t be bi anymore.” Which I defended and you said it’s either you’re with me or you’re bi. And I felt choked. I just swallowed the argument that was trying to come out of my mouth. I felt frustrated because you’re so narrow-minded.

What else?

Oh yes! You never really introduced me formally to your family. That… That was hard. My whole family knew you. Even distant relatives, second cousins, great aunts and uncles. I actually invited you to join me in family outings and gatherings because my family expected you there. But your mother hates me. And you wouldn’t tell her the truth that we were together. When you first introduced me to your parents, it was at your grandmother’s wake, and you said I was your best friend. Imagine how hurt I was that time. You said you felt it too. I highly doubt that.

And this is funny. You’re a momma’s boy. And you hate the fact that I am more liberated and carefree than you are. You tried to drag me down. Your curfew is my curfew. I don’t even have a curfew! I lost contact with friends. Especially my high school friends. The people who were, are, and always will be there for me were lost. I couldn’t see them without you. You had to be there. And when you’re there, we leave before 10PM. That sucked for me. My mother wasn’t even looking for me yet. But you insisted we go home because I have a curfew and that my ma would go ballistic, or something. I hid the truth from them. I was very protective of you and of our relationship. Because, you see, I thought you were the one. I actually made blueprints and plans of our future. I said I was going to marry you. And have three children with you. Which you opposed because you said two sons only, no daughters. I hate you. You knew how much I wanted a baby girl. And what’s worse, you made fun that I might be sterile. I hate you. You knew how much I wanted to have a baby and be a mother. You actually made fun of me.

You wanted me to work out. I don’t like working out. I don’t like to do things. But you insisted on it. And when I said I don’t want to, you’d just say shit that I gained weight. And you know what? I did. because you fed me and fed me and when I felt heavy, you’d call me fat. I’m not even fat. You incorrigible person.

And when we have fights? Even if it’s not my fault. You would turn the tables. Making me look like the bad guy. Making me beg for your forgiveness. When I did nothing wrong. But what’s funny is when you’re the wrong one, you wanted me to forgive saying sorry and being sweet. I wanted to talk about what happened but you’d rather we cuddle and shit. And you’d get mad if I’m cold. WELL, I’M SORRY I’M ANGRY. You wanted things easy. I was the one doing the hard work. You could sleep easily whenever we had fights and arguments, while I wouldn’t sleep at all. And I think you enjoyed that I undergo torture every time that happens.

What’s worse, you broke up with me three times. It’s always you who wanted to break up. Especially when things go rough. ┬áIf you find it an inconvenience, you wouldn’t do any shit about it. It’s always me who goes out of the way to see you, be with you. And you said that to me, the last fight we had. That my only effort was going to your unit. Imagine the rush hour traffic I had to go through to get to you. And you saw me break down how many times because I was just so tired. Yes, you said that was my only effort. And you added that you fed me and you spent money on me. That really angered me a lot.

Imagine, I lost my real best friend because of you. You made me choose you. I’m a shitty person because of that. And I can never have someone like her again. While you were drinking with your best friend who is an asshole and a douchebag til 4 in the morning. That’s funny.

And then the last fight we had? You called me a cheater? Why? Because I was talking to my crush who doesn’t even give a shit about me. And that that was your clearance? WOW. Oh! And you called me a college drop-out. I then realized I don’t love you anymore. I don’t have anything to hold on to. I only stayed for so long even after our break up because I was looking for something that made me love you, I was trying to grasp whatever I could, but it only turned out to be some memory. I can’t love you anymore. I don’t love you anymore. And it probably won’t happen again. Not in this lifetime. Not even in a parallel universe.

I’m glad though. That I met you. And that I loved you. You taught me things. I’m not sure what. But I feel like I learned something. I just want you to let go of me. Because I already let go of you. I’m sorry, but that’s what happened. Sorry, I’m not sorry.

I’ve never been so happy. I actually look healthy. Even my mom is happy that I look relaxed everyday. Because you can’t weigh me down anymore. I’m trying to rebuild the bridges burned during our two-year relationship that I don’t even cry about anymore. I’m not bitter. I’m actually sad because I thought I was going to be with you forever. I was wrong. And now I really don’t care about you or what you do. I just needed to let this out because I can’t say it to you. The list goes on and on but it would take me a week to list them down. That’s how fucked up we were.

And now, I’m really happy. And thank you for that Instagram post. Though all I could think was “What? Pity party?” Just stop doing that. You called me a cheap, cheating fuck and a college drop out. I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to wish me happiness. I, on the other hand, wish you well. I wish you love and happiness. This is sincere okay. Haha. But just stay out of my life. I love myself more. I’m a happier and healthier version of Jamie now. It took me a while to listen to what others were saying. And now I know that you’re the ball to the chain around my ankle. And your words, the last words you said to me, shattered your hold on me.

So, thank you. I’m free.