But now, I actually played the idea of downing the arsenic lying in my desk (that vial in the last post was 5 grams arsenic chloride -- a poison with a lethal dose of 250-400 milligrams)
Since past 27 days were not normal.
Twenty-seven days ago, my boyfriend and I broke up -- on our monthsary. Everyone around me that knew of the relationship congratulated me, considering that they thought I gave up too much of myself and still not get the feeling that my partner was satisfied with my sacrifices. I, on the other hand, was seething with anger I didn't know was dwelling in me all this time. I was angry at him for not holding on to us at the time I cannot do so. For demanding me to basically change from regular me into his dream boyfriend who will carry him of to the sunset. For ardently wishing to destroy my world so that I'll be in his. But more than that, I was angry at myself for letting things deteriorate this far.
It didn't help two hours after the breakup, he texted me asking if we could give it another chance. True, I called him and we talked. He even chided that we didn't get to talk that much 'before' (of course I didn't, he wants us to talk all day already). But, the truth was I was just patronizing him. I cringed every time he says 'mahal ko' and 'I love you'. Not that I don't want to hear those things from him, but the fact he carelessly threw those phrases during the conversation after we broke up was nerve-shattering. I felt like a yo-yo thrown away and then pulled back, or a family pet that is savagely beaten, only to be cuddled after.
'Twas Monday, so I asked him until Friday for me to decide if I am going back. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were complete and utter hell. He still texts me as if nothing happened, complete with the sweet nothings and the constant texts and calls. So on Wednesday, I asked him to stop, hindi kami kaya walang paglulugaran ang mga pinagsasabi niya. Fortunately he did stop texting, but by then my mind was deadened to any emotion towards him. I still can't bring myself to say that there would be no more chances. But I had started calling him ex. Fuck me.
Friday came and went without a decision, the weekend too. Monday bore a big surprise: he decided to leave for Dubai. Okay it's not a surprise, I was following his plurks, which is the surefire way for me to glean information off of him. I learned that little tidbit, as well as he met with someone and spent the night with him. I know who the bastard was, he was the grandson of a previous mayor of our city who eyed my ex before we got together (yes, my ex's family lines had influence, most of them having a soft spot for jewels, gold and watches). Actually, he (and his Arab boyfriend) never did quite stop pursuing my ex. But seeing that post (which combined the admission of acrobatics with the declaration of never-ending love for me) made me sick to my heart. I thought he'd stay true while I thought about us. Oh well.
The next Wednesday rolled with him briefly going to our house, leaving his passport, his supposed E-ticket for Dubai, and a long white polo for my brother (that last item brought additional heartaches for me and my family, but that's another story). I said supposed because when I bothered to open the piece of
And by that time, I made up my mind.
No more chances. And I'm not going to tell you.
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