Diary Lies

Dear Diary,

Am I glad that it’s over? How many time exactly I said to myself that it had to be the last time and I betrayed my own judgement? And how can I know that this time is different from any other time?

The difference is, this time I left because I knew that we wanted different things. Whatever we were sharing together wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship.

I didn’t like the person I was when I was with J.

Insecure. Demanding. Wanting constant reassurance.

I am an insecure person. I’ve learnt that about myself a long time ago. But being with him only made it worse. Sometimes I even wondered if I really did ask too much. What I wanted in a relationship couldn’t be any further from what he could comprehend. What I saw as reasonable and understanding acts, to him, were the ridiculous band-aid fix for my insecurity.

We couldn’t ask the other person to change, yet no one wanted to change ourselves.

This relationship had come to this because, simply, we were not compatible. In the end, after all the movie like ups and downs, it was really the mediocre reason that broken us. Nothing dramatic.

So am I glad it’s finally over? No I am not. I wished it could go the other way. I wished that we could be the one for each other and live happily-ever-after. But after all this time I realised something – sometimes it is only the image of how it could be that attracts us into a relationship. We are only the victims of wishful thinking.

And it’s ok to let go.

I’ve been thinking about what J said. He said “This is it. The last of me.” And these words just get repeated in my mind all the time.

I am learning how to grieve. This is the grieving process. I need to learn to let go. I need to accept that once a person leaves my life that’s it. Like death. This person no longer exists.

But of course he does. He is just one phone call away.

We are living in the same city. I walk on the streets that we once walked together. And this city can be so huge it can be so small. Huge enough that if we pay attention we won’t bump into each other ever again. Small enough that if one of us chooses to see each other we can easily pick the time and date and place to intentionally come across each other.

I thought about how two worlds could just collide, and then drift apart.

How a person was the universe of the other person’s and the next minute it’s all gone. Life goes on.

Suddenly it reminded me a song. “The End of the World” is says:

Why does the sun go on shining
Why does the sea rush to shore
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me any more

Why do the birds go on singing
Why do the stars glow above
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love

I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything's the same as it was
I can't understand, no, I can't understand
How life goes on the way it does

Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye

Why does my heart go on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when you said goodbye

Was it, the End of the World for him?

Dear Diary

He said, this is it. This is the last of me.

He carried all his belongings in a bag, slowly walked out the door, and turned to look at me in the eyes. I said, goodbye, J. He cried. And he waived goodbye.

Then he disappeared.

This has to be the one last time.

I asked J to leave me. Because I can’t give him what he wants. He can’t give me what I want. I don’t know what I want and I don’t know if I want him.

He was one of these cycles that I was incapable to break. I was always in two relationships at least, and when the primary one didn’t work or finally ended, I ran straight into the back up one.

J was part of the cycle. If I stayed with him I would stayed with this cycle. I would do the same thing “starting new” and tried and work on something that was full of deceptions right from the beginning.

And I would hurt him more than what he felt right now.

I broke his heart. And I am not even sure if I had broken mine.

Dear Diary

Today for the first time, I ended a relationship. I said to my dearest husband: “I want a separation.”

I want a separation. I want to separate myself from lies. From living in multiple lives. From playing a role in a seemly ideal life.

My wish was granted.

Dear Diary

Today my dearest husband said to me: “Well I did my best. If that's not good enough it's time for both of us to move on.”

He typed these simple words in a chat, followed by “I'll talk to you later.” Then he disappeared.

It didn’t hurt my heart. I didn’t experience the pain that I have encountered before. What I felt was some kind of irritation as if someone was squeezing my heart in an uncomfortable way.

How I thought it was a comfortable relationship.

It is never good enough. It doesn’t even matter if he tries. And he never does anyway.

I remember attending a marketing conference once and at a workshop the facilitator said to us “good enough is not enough.” He said, “Good enough can never make your customers satisfied.”

Maybe that also applies to relationships.

Good enough is not enough. How funny. Because if all he thinks he can take this relationship to a place that is good enough, then we have a problem.

I am not sure who the victim is anymore.

Living with him is comfortable. As I've said it is never passionate. But comfortable.

“He is a good person” that’s how I describe him when people ask.

And this good person is a good companion.

I thought it was good enough. I thought it was good enough. I thought it was.

I chose him to be my husband and it was a deliberate decision. I chose to stay with him even when I knew I was not 100% happy with him. I chose to cure my loneliness from how he never desired me by having affairs with other men.

I chose him because I thought the life with him was comfortable and stable, both financially and emotionally. I didn’t need to worry about money and I didn’t need to worry about going through the emotional rollercoaster when one’s in love.

On paper he’s got everything. He is a man who would satisfy any checklist for an ideal husband. And I wish I could love him more. But again, have I ever loved him?

At this point of time I don’t know what’s best for me what’s not. Maybe I never have a clue and that’s why I am in this mess.

Maybe really, it’s about time to move on. Maybe what I need is more than just comfortable.

Because after all, I can be comfortable with myself.

Dear Diary

All the excitements and pleasure have subsided. It all started when J said to me with a convincing voice: “I love you.”

So was it a game for me? Was the reason that I had lasted in this relationship with him for this long just because I wanted to win the game?

Was I hypochondriac when I felt that excruciating pain when he tried to leave me?

Have I really loved him? Have I ever loved him?

Have I ever, really loved?

I am confused.

Dear Diary

J’s call was expected. And it rang just before noon, as he promised. “I think we should meet up and talk about it in person.” He said. “I can be ready in about an hour.”

So I went, thinking, it was a proper closure for us. We had to do this face to face, not on the phone.

But it didn’t end. It got restarted again. Or at least, for as long as it could be. For as long as it should be.

It was not meant to be anyway. And it was the reason I chose him.

Yes. I chose him.

Several years younger than me. An exchange student from overseas. A definite expiry date on his visa. A girlfriend back home. And at the life stage that he won’t want to commit in anything. All of these made him a perfect candidate as my lover.

I didn’t want to have flings. Flings were too easy to have. I wasn’t satisfied with the casual sexual encounter. I wanted to fall in love. And I wanted to fall within a controlled environment.

How arrogant I was, thinking that I could fall in a controlled environment? You can never fall without losing your mind.

And so in a short period of time, because I thought I was not going to fall in an unhealthy way, I actually gave all I had to J.

So when he said “Why don’t we stay together for the moment?” I realized he was the one who’s been very sober.

He knows that the moment he leaves this country, that the story of us will end.

He knows that he will go back and resume his life. And it’s always easier for the person who’s not being left behind.

He knows that he has all the potential and possibilities waiting ahead of him. And I was not included in all those things.

I was back to his arms tonight. The same way I chose him, I chose to go ahead with what we have left.

The story will end this way, in his term. I will still have his arms around me for a few more nights. He will still call me baby adoringly and give me kisses on my forehead. We will still hold hands and exchange glances with a secret smile. We will still make love and we will still lose ourselves in each other.

I will give him as much as I can possibly give. Because to me, there is no tomorrow after the end comes.

Dear Diary

I called J back. Being weak and vulnerable I was the one who wanted to hear him again.

I looked frantically for his number. And I found his landline. I stared at the number for hours before I dialed those eight digits.

He answered with a cheerful voice. J stated his name. And I replied in silence.

“…Hello, it’s me.” I finally breathed.

“Oh.” he said.

It’s silly. What was I expecting? Him feeling sad and gloomy like the way I feel right now? Like me taking a day off from work? Like me not being able to think or do anything? Of course not.

He said once he decide this is it then this, is it.

So on the other line of the phone he was cold and rational. Rational is a good thing. He was being reasonable. And I was not.

I wanted this to end. But I couldn’t. I just need him to push me more. More. More. More. Push me more. Hurt me more. Take my dignity away. Trash it. Tell me it’s not going to happen. Tell me I am not worth it. Tell me this doesn’t mean anything to him. Tell me he is leaving me for sure and he never wants to see me again.

And I will continue begging. I will continue telling him that I love him and tell him not to leave me.

And he will continue pushing me away. he will feel for me less and less until, I become a nuisance.

And this love story will finally turn into a horror story.

And finally no one would want to remember it. No one will.

Dear Diary

“Goodbye.” J said, followed by my name. And that crisp click sound indicated that the phone connection ended.

We, ended.

I erased J’s number immediately. Any trace that could lead me calling him back, I erased them straight away. Only if I could erase him from my heart as simple as pushing the delete button.

Yes. I provoked J. I pushed him to the edge. To the moment that he could honestly say “It’s not worthy” and move on. So J can move on, back to where he belongs. Back to his world. Back to the place that I should not and would not exist.

It’s the best for us. For J, and for me.

Call me selfish.

I tried to locate some unpleasant memories of us, of J. Hoping that would help me suffer less. Because, at least, I could say “it wasn’t all rosy”. But I simply could not find anything bad about J. Nothing, really, ridiculously, nothing about us was unpleasant. All I could find was happy memories, those happy time that we shared together.

Content. Delighted. Blissful. Ecstatic.

Deliriously Happy.

He made me happy. And he no longer exists in my world. My happiness has gone.

J said that it’s too much of the responsibility to make a person happy. And he was right. I should search for my happiness myself. And how ironic if in the end I find that what we had shared actually was the happiness I had been looking for?

I called his name countless time in my heart. His capital letter. It is marked deep inside me.

He has taken part of my heart. It’s gone with him

Love. Why does it need to be so painful? Love. I don’t understand. Let it hurt I said. Let it hurt. Because if you have never been hurt you have never really lived. And today, I have truly lived.

I want to go on a journey looking for us. A conclusion.

From where we first met, to the café we went to, to the ice-cream place where we had our first conversation where he touched my heart for the first time. I will then fly to that city where everything started, I will request for the room we once stayed, I will walk on the streets we once walked on, go to the café and restaurant we shared food together… I will then come back to this side of the world, I will go to the places that he took me to, and I will drive pass the place he temporarily called it home…

I will do all these because he is so close to my heart. I can do this alone because when I close my eyes I see him.

I see him. And I see him leaving me, walking away from me. I see him being happier. And I see myself being happier, knowing that I have done the right thing.

Dear Diary

My first one night stand in Shanghai. It happened two nights ago.

It had a potential to be another affair but I guess he decided not to. "I'll call you." he said. But he didn't. Funny thing was, I also said to him "I'll email you" and the first thing I did when he walked out the room was to tear the piece of paper he noted down his contact details.

Perhaps we were just fulfilling what a good fling should do. Be polite. And leave.

I kind of liked him. A short, cute English man, in his mid-thirty but still had this boyish charm. And a master in going down on a woman. i.e. Me.

The last one night stand I had before this, was in Guangzhou. A short, cute Italian man, also in his mid-thirty. And a very fit body that seemed to last forever.

They came passing my life for a few hours and they disappeared. I wouldn't even bother to nickname them. I could hardly remember their faces.

They were just one of these faces. These faces that blurred together. Very vague. Hardly memorable. Just like the pleasure they gave me.

Pleasure, I couldn’t even be sure that I had receive any.