The pain is telling you that letting go is the best option. But your brain is failing you to the extent that it insists on hoping, and holding on to something that’s already out of reach.
November 22, 2014.
It was, by far, the happiest day of my life. After years of falling in love with countless men who never even bothered to look at me, finally, someone has come. I was 27, but it was the first time in my whole life that I’ve experienced being courted formally. He was the first ever man to wear a ring on my finger. I was on the verge of giving up believing that there’s a man out there who can love me for real. And then he came, and made me believe again.
I was afraid to love again, because I know very well how painful it is when it ends. But he promised me two things: that he would take care of my heart, and that he would never hurt me. And I trusted his words.
And I was very happy.
All those years of being love-deprived, of being envious with other happy lovers around me, of longing to have someone by my side, of having a hand to hold, of having someone to chase away my loneliness… he fulfilled everything.
And I was very happy.
Back on the times that I was still searching, and waiting for him, I have promised myself that I am going to be the best girlfriend this man has ever had. And when he came, I had my chance to fulfill that promise. I served him, took care of him, stood by his side against adversaries. I supported him in all his dreams and aspirations. I was always there. After all the years of waiting, there’s finally someone I can pour all the love I’ve saved for so long.
And it made me very happy.
But then, everything began to change.
Slowly, I lost track of where we are. Our minds would not connect anymore. Words suddenly lost their meanings. No matter how much we talk, no matter how much we try to understand and be understood, we remained disconnected. It seems like, the more we try to reach for each other, the more the distance between us grows.
He wouldn’t listen to me anymore, and the more I try to listen to him, the more he insist that I’m not listening. I tried my best to tell him what my love language is, but still he refused to speak it.
And all those feelings of being loved by him started to grow cold. Every little request I make, he refused to grant. While I vowed never to let the sun set over any misunderstanding, he started going to sleep even if he knows that I’m still crying. The very thing that I dread the most managed to slowly creep into our midst…
I began to feel rejected.
And because I was hurt by his rejection, I ended up hurting him, too.
All I ever wanted was little drops of attention. I was willing to be patient in collecting them, until my cup is filled up. But he wouldn’t spare me any.
Somehow, I considered the thought, that maybe, I was the one who’s wrong. He keeps telling me that he’s doing his best, but I still find it lacking. Maybe, it’s my fault that I was not contented.
I want to despise myself, blame myself, but the pain he’s caused me, of which he refused to lift away, blurs my resolve.
Maybe I’m just too proud, but how can I melt away the pride that was nurtured by years of being hurt and rejected? He was the very person I hoped to end those painful years, but somehow, he added another one to it.
Maybe it’s beyond repair now. I tried to reach out to him, even though it meant trampling over my own pride as a woman. But he rejected me, again. I tried to save us both from falling apart, even though it meant nurturing on my own the wounds he inflicted, but he wouldn’t let me in anymore.
The most painful part is the thought that we can still do better than this, that we can still fight for each other, but somehow, we couldn’t, because both of us have grown weak, and one can’t give strength to the other anymore.