Our relationship was plunging headfirst down from the precipice of confidence and love. Somehow, doubt and mistrust crawled its way up, caught up with our relationship and flailed its arms and pushed it over the edge of the cliff. As it plunges down the rocky seashore below, I realized the intricacy of the situation: Only two things can save this relationship which, at first, was something of a crag for us when everything in this world seemed contradictory to us. Love is not one of those; neither trust. Not even confidence.
As I was losing grip of everything I practically was living and fighting for, I realized I had to make a resolve just to save our relationship: I should be honest. And whatever happens, I should be humble enough to acknowledge that I caused everything to fall apart.
And now that our relationship is heading down for its own destruction, I’m trying my best to salvage even just a part of it. I realized I can live with a part of our relationship still present, than not having any of it at all anymore.
I put the blame on myself. You probably know the nature of men, right? Men always think about sex, don’t speak their minds that much, and tend to conceal some things even from their most beloved ones. My situation lies under the third premise.
I have the tendency to hide some things from others, since I think it wouldn’t make any difference if they knew. But I was wrong. There are some things that I need to tell the person I gave myself to, and practically I came to thinking that she needs to know everything about me. This may flabbergast you, but I’ve been working on it for more than two years now. This hasn’t been the guy chauvinists look up to some time ago. What I am now and what I’m trying to be isn’t the same as who I was and what I had been. If I didn’t feel like letting people know of my whereabouts and activities, then they’d have to deal with it. I used to think that they’d have to adjust to me, or else brood over their loss if I tire up and leave them.
This time, though, the winds have changed. A childhood friend hypothesized that maybe the entire jinx in the world that I had afflicted I now experience. It doesn’t put my lady in a good light, but what my friend said struck a lightning in my mind. I never recalled any moment long ago when I’d involuntarily bleed when I’m in mental and emotional pain. Before, it only used to be the physical aspect; when the sun is scorching hot, either I’d faint or I’d bleed. But now every inch of me simply cringe when something in us simply just doesn’t go as planned.
I used to remember how reserved I was even when people dear to me would like to know what the thoughts I was keeping were. But this time I see myself in the mirror, trying all my best to be as transparent to my lady. And the funniest thing is that I find myself enjoying opening myself up to someone I’m willing to spend forever with.
Not so long ago, I would definitely be unaffected when things don’t go right for me and a loved girl. I’d simply brush it off, sleep over it, and wait the next day for her to make amends – all of these despite the situations when I’m on the wrong side of the argument. This time, however, I realized just now how far I’d be willing to go just to be the one winning my lady over, whoever of us is right and wrong.
As I’m making a personal renaissance, I still fail her at times. It saddens me when she proposes that we be apart just to escape the ‘immeasurable degree of bitterness’ she feels, and she has done it over the course of our relationship. It’s not that she doesn’t love me; I know she does, and I can feel it. Maybe it’s just her way of thinking it would benefit her most to start forming firewalls around her heart, so that the next time I’d accidentally hurt her it wouldn’t be very painful. What I can’t get myself to say, though, is the fact that when we fight, I also get hurt. I don’t actually need to gash myself (as I’ve done before) just to feel the pain; seeing my nose bleed and feeling my head in a spin are ways bad enough to make me feel how my subconscious has awoken and started feeling the pain.
But then, as I resolved, I need to be honest this time just to save our relationship – just to have her still holding on to us. And as I become honest, I need to be humble as well to accept whatever she thinks would be necessary for a change. To put everything in perspective:
I’m terribly sorry for my imperfections. I’m no superhuman, neither am I aspiring to be perfect; but I’m doing everything just to make her realize that just by having me, the word ‘perfect’ doesn’t need to take place anymore.
I’m willing to do everything to bring things back to normal. This isn’t what our relationship is supposed to be, and I know she knows it as well.
As our relationship plunges down the rocky seashore below, I made the last-minute effort by summoning all my strength, threw myself as well and tried to salvage whatever would be left in our relationship. As I near the shore, broken bones and gashes and blood and all, I plainly realized everything as if I never did before:
I’ve got to pick up all the pieces together. After all, I caused this mess.
As for now, a part of it is better than not having any part of it anymore… at all.
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