I remember the last time I fell in love with a man.  It didn’t end up well.  I was the girlfriend who became the third party.  It’s a story I do not wish to remember;  it’s a story not worth telling.

Somehow, fate has its own means of getting back at you.  I am feeling the same excruciating pain I felt three years ago.  For weeks, I have relied on anti-histamine to help me fall asleep.  Despite continued protests from friends who are afraid that I might fall into addiction, I continue to take it.

I dated him exclusively for four months and during those times, I genuinely cared for the man.  — I believed him. He’s a self-made man; someone trustworthy; someone honorable.  Or so I thought.

The man I have learned to love has betrayed me.  I fell prey into his surges of affection, displayed in ambiguous manners no woman can resist.

It is rather unfortunate that the feeling isn’t returned.  For years,  I built my walls to protect me from these situations — situations so distressful no one deserves to experience.  It had always been the internet, chit chats, school, friends and job.  Nothing more.

I’m still struggling.  I still think about him.  I feel jealous that at the end of the day, it is Miel he exchanges his “I love you”s with.  Nevertheless,  I still continue to care because I love him. I am still hopeful that one day, he’ll come back and be brave enough to apologize and explain his rather unacceptable action.

****A little update for everyone. I don’t feel the same way I did. The guy is a jerk!

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