Just So You Know...

Dear Stranger,


Some 18 weeks ago, I wrote this in my status: My heart will eventually grow tired of missing you. 18 weeks later, my heart does not seem to show any signs of exhaustion. Allow me to share with you the stuff I've been meaning to tell you since we told each other off on the last day of January.
 

I wanted to greet you on your birthday but thought it a waste of time since you never bothered to greet me on mine.

I wanted to tell you how moving out and living on my own was both a dream and a nightmare.

I wanted to tell you how I hated having to do my laundry (surprise! surprise!) only because I had to use a knife to open the washing machine door.

I wanted to tell you that I now know how to clean a squid and even learned how to clean the bathroom, toilet and all.

I wanted to tell you how embarrassed I was to learn that there was a Muslim in the flat, and I learned that while I was cooking pork adobo.

I wanted to tell you about the numerous cooking experiments I did, from the ones that turned out great to even the ones that were hardly edible.

I wanted to tell you that I still watch American Idol every Thursday and Friday night and I remember you telling me that the show was rubbish.

I wanted to tell you the latest happenings at work - particularly about someone who left the company on allegations of fraud - a bit sad really cos he helped a lot of people, including you.

I wanted to tell you that someone is giving me grief at work and how I wished you were there to cheer me up. Everyone who knows the story try their best to make me smile. They promise me that everything will turn out fine. Somehow, I don't believe them as much as I do when it comes from you.

I wanted to tell you that the office is moving to a new location and that we are busy cleaning up everyone's mess. I saw the note on your old desk. I saw my handwriting on a note which says this SIM card used to belong to you.

I wanted to tell you that I am moving to a place closer to the new office as well. After 3 months in my own room & bath, I'm going back to sharing, but only because I might get sent to site in one of the projects in Abu Dhabi.

I wanted to tell you that I'm working part-time as Maha's document controller. I know you will laugh because it just goes to how she does really like me and for the nth time, I don't know why.

I wanted to tell you that our common friends have been asking me about you. I just tell them I haven't been talking to you for months now (because I chose to and you must have probably come to your senses too). It's sad that they think we are really good friends because you yourself dont see it that way. I just dont know what to tell them if they ask why we are not friends in Facebook. If you have an answer, let me know.

I wanted to tell you that the last two months have been tough for my heart and for my sanity. More than not being able to talk to you, it hurt that you threw all my efforts to show you how this friendship meant to me out the window. I am reminded why I have built walls and took pains selecting my friends carefully - because I want to spare myself the pain of having to lose them.

I wanted to tell you that I still miss you everyday and I wish I can still tell you random stuff like I used to because I found comfort in sharing these things even though you think they're just nonsense.

I wanted to tell you that at night, when I really feel sad, I hug my pillows tight and think of the times when I could still hug you, say, "Make space for me, old bear!" and say good night.

I wanted to tell you that even though you've said several times that there will be better sounding boards etc, I was not looking for better. You were serving your purpose and that was enough. It is totally a different matter though when it comes to love as I am in agreement that yes, I do deserve someone better.

I wanted to tell you that I have already accepted that your healing time with me is done. You have stretched me in more ways than you could ever imagine. Now it's time to look for someone else to heal the scars that you have left.

I wanted to tell you that I accept things for what they were and there could be nothing more (you liked to asked that question before). I have envisioned from the very start that someday things will change between us but never in my wildest imagination did I think that you would throw the friendship just like that.

I wanted to tell you that it's been a year since we first kissed. I still remember cos it felt like I was jumping off a cliff with you every single time. It will take a while before I do such a crazy thing again. I decided to jump then just to see how it feels like to free fall. The next time I jump, it will be one with purpose - it will not merely be a game but a decision to fully commit to jumping with the person, possibly for the rest of my life.

I wanted to tell you that I understand that I was the easier one to give up but I want you to know that though you might think this is the best way to shield me from more pain, it still hurts...a lot.

I know you might not appreciate my sharing all these to you, dear stranger. I am telling you these because I want to as I am no longer bound to listen to you say no. I am happy for the space but I am also sad because I lost a very dear friend. I hope the time comes when I will no longer have to grieve for this loss. I hope it comes really soon but in the meantime, my heart will continue to miss my makulit bear.

Like Clockwork

Since I moved to Al Barsha almost three months ago, I had unconsciously fallen to a morning routine, so precise in fact that I only need to look at the people around me to know what time it is.

Alarm starts ringing at 5:00 am, after which I tumble grumpily out of bed to cook rice in my baby rice cooker (it can only hold 3 cups). If I feel extremely industrious, I put my laundry in the washing machine for 50 minutes. I then collapse in my bed for another few minutes before I finally "wake up" at 5:45 am, cook my food for breakfast and for work, eat, watch the Bold & the Beautiful rerun (my morning guilty pleasure), take a bath, get dressed, and hang my clothes. I shut the door of my room either at 6:50 or 7:00 am.

I hail a cab for a 5-minute, 10-dirham ride to the Mall of the Emirates Metro Station. I can catch either the 7:01 or the 7:11am train. Maybe I should not be surprised that other people succumb to the same morning routine as I do. If I catch the 7:01 train, I will be on the same train as the light brown-haired girl who works at the Dubai Aquarium. If I catch the next train, I would be sharing the ride with an African Muslim girl wearing a fancy pair of shades, a tall skinny girl who works at the Dubai Mall and a blonde European girl in a suit who listens to her iPod while reading a magazine or an Economics book. If I see the oriental guy who always wears a white shirt & black pants to work (and he apparently works at the Burjuman Centre) walking, that means it's about 7:05 and we will both have time to catch the 7:11 train.

At 7:23, the train stops at the Dubai Mall/Burj Khalifa Metro Station. I reach the bus stop some 3 minutes later. After about 5 minutes, the bus takes about 15 minutes to reach my stop at the Palace Hotel, after dropping workers in the Dubai Mall. I know it is already 7:45 when I see the tall Japanese woman dressed in chic black clothes waiting at my bus stop. Sometimes there was even enough time in between to exchange polite smiles with her. Everything works like clockwork, at least in the morning. I wonder if they also feel disoriented as I do when I miss the train I usually take. There is comfort in seeing the same faces, taking the same places in the train and knowing you're right on track to start another day.

Brellie

My red violet umbrella sat briefly on the table, waiting for me to finish scribbling on a receipt to get petty cash. "What are you bringing a brellie for?", asked one of my colleagues. I was stumped for five seconds. Brellie? Oh, umbrella! It was another lightning bulb moment (but at the same time I was telling myself how fancy that term was). My turn to respond: "Why? It's hot!" She and another colleague giggled as if I said something absurd. "Oh, other people would just bring out the olive oil and put it on their skin!"

Suddenly it occurred to me that I was talking to people who rarely have the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine - either because it's too cold or it's just too darn rainy and gray (or grey as they spell it). Of course they would only use the umbrella for rainy days!!! I felt I had to explain myself. I told her that we Filipinos use brellies not only to shield us from the rain but from the sun's rays too. I shared that we don't want to get our skin too dark or our hair too fried. Unlike us though, they seem to revel in the sun's mighty glow and consider it as a perfect opportunity to get a little color, if not a tan. No wonder they love Dubai so much!

Here in Dubai, it is the umbrella that distinguishes us Filipinos from the rest of the expats (although the Indians seem to be catching on the practicality of toting one - or maybe they have Filipino friends/girlfriends). Owing to its dual purpose for us, it is no surprise that when there is a sudden downpour, Filipinos are most likely the ones to remain the driest (I have observed this when I took the bus one rainy afternoon). While everyone is rushing to the nearest shed for cover, Filipinos calmly dig into their bags (and there are some men who do this as well) and dish out their folding brellies (Come to think of it, they all seem to be the folding kind as I haven't seen big umbrellas in the streets of Dubai). In the summer, when the rays are too piercing for comfort, we do the same. Or maybe it's just plain Pinoy vanity. Some of us have to protect our newly-treated hair or our newly-bleached skin, you know.

Slipping

Just when I thought I finally found the strength to put everything behind me, I stumble yet again.

I have failed miserably.

I am disappointed with myself.

I must be punished for not sticking to my promise.

Yet I feel grateful in a twisted sort of way. Today the doors of communication opened just enough for me to have the opportunity to throw back the words he said to me.

I am too honest for my own good. Is that something I also need to apologize for?

I only had the truth to answer for his "sarcasm". Once again, he did not believe them. Or was he just fishing and using my answers to stroke his ego again? Is this another trap that I led myself into?

I feel like gagging. My chest tightens at the thought of what I had just done.

I wish somebody would intervene and pull me out of this rut. Taking the first step must have taken all my strength already. Maybe if someone would just continuously talk and spend time with me, I may not have to think about the void that he chose to leave. I already tried seeking solace in solitude. I cannot go on like that forever because I like connecting with people.

I am scared, really scared.

I hope today will be the last time.

I hope I can forgive myself for what happened today.

I hope that tomorrow when I wake up, I will not have to silence my mouth, mind and heart.

Good Friday

*This is a belated post.

It is finished. Allow me to use one of the Seven Last Words as a jump-off point for my blog entry today. After my self-imposed two-month no communication with someone, I think I have now finally come to terms with the fact that we have reached the inevitable end. Taking one last look at the empty profile (this person has practically hidden everything from me - find someone else to stalk, he said), I say goodbye and with one click, he was officially gone from my Facebook list of friends.

It was not always like this. There have been countless "goodbyes" in the past. I never understood why he wanted to stop the friendship altogether. It upset me so much that I ended up dissolving in tears most of the time. Then the goodbyes were disguised into "the need to step back", "we will still talk but not as much" and "it's not that I don't want to be friends with you but I just can't". Yet after each agreement to set a considerable amount of distance, everything went back to where it once was. Unfortunately, the circumstances only served to bring us together. With each trial that came, each one was there for the other, offering comfort even though sometimes it was not even physically possible. Perhaps, remaining in contact served as an escape from reality. The conversations served to retain a sense of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic existence. In the real world, we both had our demons to face - work and the lack of it, stress around the home, etc. In the virtual world of text and online chats however, we could revert to our crazy, annoying and yes, our flirty selves and derive simple pleasure from random conversations and cheeky banter.

Perhaps it was a mistake for me to think his constant presence was commitment - that we were eye to eye in valuing the friendship that we had. Perhaps it was naive of me to trust that he would be able to separate the Roma who played along with his game in the past and the Roma who was genuinely a friend to him. I thought it was enough that I stood by him even though he had repeatedly treated me badly. I looked at him with love and compassion. He looked at me with lust (or at least that was what he was trying to project).

And so after seeing him for the last time on New Year's Eve, he said goodbye. I said until then. Since it was the New Year, it was high time that we finally keep our promises and that to me meant keeping my silence and not keeping in touch. Lo and behold, he started communicating again, days after saying goodbye. I thought it was okay to revert to old ways and make him my sounding board again. I told him how sad I was that another batch of people from work whom I've considered my friends already were leaving work. I might as well have been talking to a totally different person. Suddenly, I was being called obsessive, pathetic and having a thick skull for I allegedly could not get the idea that he does not want to be my friend anymore. He told me to take a long hard look at myself in the mirror. All I saw was him. For every accusation that he hurled at me , I saw him doing the exact same thing. Why then must I take the sole blame for everything?

It was then that I realized that nothing was ever going to change if I let this person remain in my life. He was simply too proud to acknowledge responsibility for what had happened, too proud to admit that he needed help in staying away from me, too proud to admit that the game he initially sought out to play turned out to be anything but. I needed to get out to finally protect myself from all the hurt that he has caused and could still possibly cause. I have told him before that I will remain his friend for as long as he wants me to. The fact that he finally said it and that he asked why I consider the people I work with as friends when they were only workmates were the last straws. Thus began the real journey to goodbye.

I read in a book that 60 days is enough time for someone to decide whether it was still worth talking to the estranged person. I figured it was worth a try. If he can't cut ties with me, then I will, if only for my sanity. I wanted to make sure that I was finally okay to do it, sans tears.

The next 60 days were tough - I was battling with disillusionment, betrayal and sadness. I could not believe that someone you cared for deeply would say those things. These feelings would hit me like a traitor and I ended up crying at odd times. My friends could only watch in helplessness. They knew I only cried when I was angry or sad. This time it was both. I lost a friend after all and it was never easy for someone like me. I needed space to grieve and thus shut myself from the world.

I still miss him but I only need to recall the words that he said to make those thoughts of reconnecting vanish. It will be a long time before I can say that I have completely healed from this experience. They say the first step is always the hardest to make. I am glad to have finally made mine and I hope that this will be the start of better things to come. In death lies the hope of rising again. My redemption will soon come, I just know it. It was a good Friday indeed.

Go get married!

I was asking an associate director about the Canadian immigration process. In the middle of his long explanation, he stopped and exclaimed in his signature passionate way, "Why are you thinking about this? Go get married! Then you'll have peace of mind!" I started laughing heartily...the suggestion was absurd but it does make sense. Getting married is the most convenient route to changing passports. Very wise words from an old wise man but that is not a road I am prepared to take just yet! ;)

Postscript:

I do realize that it's been 366 days since I last wrote an entry here. I think I'll start blogging on a more regular basis, chronicling random conversations and observations. My mind is filled with things to write every morning as I half-walk, half-run towards the train platform. After all, these little snippets are part and parcel of my Dubai odyssey. :) To the ones encouraging me to write again, your prayers might just have been answered! :)