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!