The Break Up

Picking at Old Wounds

So, I realize that its been quite a while since I’ve written on here. A lot’s happened. Some good, some bad. I certainly wish I had journaled everything. I am at home right now. Sitting in my parent’s living room.

I know that its probably too little, too late. But I miss you. And when we hung out this past weekend, I could feel a little bit of the old feelings sort of breaking through the shell of black crusted scar tissue of what little heart I had left. I felt a stirring. Sort of like a sleeping dragon that was ready to wake from a deep sleep. But… I realize it may be too little, too late.

My Mom asked me about you today. “Is girlfriend coming?”. I told her no. I thought I had made it clear that we were no longer together. She asked me in tagalog if there was no hope of us ever getting back together again. I feel bad because I snapped at her and said, “No mom, please, please just stop talking about her.”

Truth is, I asked her to stop talking about you not because I hate you, but because I miss you so much and it just hurts to know that I may have messed up a chance to set all things right. I wish I could take back the things I said last week. I felt like you had pushed me into a corner that I couldn’t escape and feeling like a trapped and wounded animal that’s pushed, I reacted with fangs and claws beared.

I wish I could tell you, that I will always think of you, and always love you and hope that you are happy. But maybe its too little, too late.