Day 126

Today marks the 4th monthiversary of my love Iwan Tumewa's death. I still miss him… a lot. I can't lie and say that I don't think of him every now and then. I *am* moving forward with my life, but I don't think I would get over this, ever. (Don't even expect me to.) 

And as for everyone else who is in my shoes, listen to no one, but yourself. People may say a lot of things, but only you understand the pain. Insensitive people tell you to get over it, move on, there’s still plenty of fish in the sea, etc… Obviously these are people who have never experienced what we have. These are clueless people, who don’t know any better and steer clear from them―for the time being. It’s okay to put unsupportive family and friends on the shelve until you’re ready to deal with them.

Give yourself time. Grieve in your own time and at your own pace. 

What If I Didn't Meet You That Day

No, the correct question should be “What if you didn’t try to get my number that day?” Because honestly, our meeting was purely coincidental, and if you didn’t try to snap tons of pictures of me and talk to me, I wouldn’t have noticed your presence anyway.

But you did. You took your chances. And I couldn’t help but think of the answer to the question stated above. You know what? I think time would’ve just passed by without leaving any significant mark whatsoever in my life. Even if you still died in that freak-Harley accident two years ago, it wouldn’t have had any impacts on me, on my life.

How it’s like, there’s this invisible line that separates my life: before you died, when everything was all about butterflies and all things nice, and after you died, when everything turned blue and blah.

You see, I’ve changed a lot since then. I’m no longer the same person I was when we were together. It’s been almost two years since I last fell in love, and it frustrates me sometimes how I can’t even remember how it feels like.

If I could have it my way, I’d wish you’d never set the bar too high for everyone else and make it harder for me to start anew. Then again, you did, and I can’t do shit about it because you meant the world to me, in fact, you still do.

However, I have no regrets. I couldn’t think of any better way to spend 21 months of my life than with you, Iwan. I’m so grateful God gave me a chance to be with you. I miss you, baby. Hope you’re doing okay up there. :)

There are days when our old photographs bring joy and smile to my face; There are times when it really feels like they stab me right in my chest all over again, just like when I took that call.

Day 952

It’s almost 2 am and I still can’t sleep. My mind can’t stop thinking about Iwan, about all the good and bad times we’d shared.

August isn’t that far anymore and soon enough it’s gonna be 3 years after his passing. Time flies, but my heart stays.

I still miss him, so much that it hurts, even after all this time. I feel so lonely at times, not gonna lie. I know it sounds crazy and some of you wouldn’t even have approved of the idea, but he was all I wanted.

I’ve been going on a dating spree and to be honest, I’m exhausted. My mistake is that I keep trying to find someone who can fill in this gigantic void. I keep failing, obviously, because Iwan is that irreplaceable.

I loved him then, and I love him still, truth be told. He’s not the kind of person, definitely not the kind of boyfriend, I can easily get over.

He’d ruined everything for me by setting the bar way too high for everyone else. Despite his flaws and his mistakes, I know for a fact that he loved me best. I think I’d finally come to terms with not finding someone who can make me feel the way he did, with being single for the rest of my life.

I miss him. Life is pretty shitty without him.

The Best Boss Anyone Could Ever Have

I never worked for him, obviously, but I know for sure that he was THE best Boss. Because he coached people―not just those who actually worked for him―and he was the kind of leader who found a way to make his people do what they could do, rather than punished them for what they couldn’t.

I remember that time, when I asked him what his purpose in life was, and he simply said it was to be a bridge between talent and opportunities. And he actually meant it.

I miss him. I miss my love.

A Simple Guide To Miss Someone

You don’t miss them when you are busy. You don’t miss them six months later. You don’t miss them on a Saturday night. You don’t miss them when you are having breakfast or lunch or dinner. You don’t miss them while you are grocery shopping.

You don’t miss them when you are out partying with your friends. You don’t miss them when you are on your way home. You don’t miss them on Sundays. You don’t miss them in December.

You don’t miss them when you are looking through your photo albums. You don’t miss them every time your phone rings. You don’t miss them when you are rereading their old text messages. You don’t miss them when you are running your eyes over their old tweets that were directed at you.

You don’t miss their laughter. You don’t miss their smell. You don’t miss their eyes. You don’t miss their arms. You don’t miss their hands. You don’t miss their fingers. You don’t miss their lips. You don’t miss them when you are feeling lonely. You don’t miss them when you are alone.

You miss them when you have nothing to do. You miss them a year later when you can barely remember how they looked like. You miss them everyday and every night. You miss them when you are trying to enjoy your meal, because you remember how often you used to visit that café, or that Japanese restaurant, or how much they loved kimchi ramen. You miss how fun it was to be in a supermarket, giggling at a funny-looking eggplant.

You miss hanging out in a coffee shop until midnight, sipping a cup of hot chocolate while listening to their blabs. You miss how they used to hold your hand while they were driving you home. You miss how you used to spend your Sundays lying on the bed, catching up on Modern Family while snuggling with them under the covers. You miss them during the holiday season.

You miss how your cheek used to touch theirs every time you took a picture with them. You miss how excited you were to see their name on the caller ID. You miss how you used to talk with them, because you know that’s not how you talk to anybody else in the world. You miss how cheesy and silly their tweets were, you miss how they were mostly directed at you.

You miss making them laugh. You miss realizing how your clothes smelt like them, hell, even your pillows smelt like them. You miss how they used to look at you. You miss how warm their hugs were. You miss how they used to caress your hair to sleep. You miss how their fingers fit perfectly between the spaces of yours. You miss how loving, passionate, and sometimes lustful, their kisses were. You miss them when you are feeling sad, when you have good news to tell. You miss them when you are among the crowd, because you still try to see if you could catch a glimpse of them among all those people. Most importantly, you miss them because they made you feel like you were home.