At 30, I never imagined myself being single. When I said “yes” to you six years ago, I was sure I’d be married to you six years later. I imagined walking down the aisle and seeing you tear up joyfully at the altar. I pictured waking up ahead of you, cooking you breakfast, and preparing you your favorite tea. I even dreamed about showing you a pregnancy test result, of seeing your face light up as I tell you you’re going to be a father to our first child. Everything was crystal clear until that day you told me you had a serious “problem.”
Like any other relationship, ours had its own share of ups and downs, of twists and turns. Thirty percent of our relationship was like that of Romeo and Juliet, while seventy percent was long-distance drama. You worked abroad while I labored at home where I preferred to advance my career. We argued a lot about not being together, about you needing to work miles away to provide for your family and to prove your worth before my family. But despite these struggles, we survived and fought hard. We braved the storms and demonstrated to everyone how we could make our opposing worlds unite.
Afraid you’ll get lonely and jealous overseas, I restricted myself from enjoying too much. As much as I wanted to spend time with my friends after shift, I chose to go home early and talk to you on Skype. Your unpredictable working hours, not to mention the crazy time difference, didn’t stop me from sharing a few laughs with you after a stressful day at work. I waited for you each night, battled my drowsiness because I always yearned to see you and talk to you before we dozed to sleep.
Similarly, I delayed every tour and ambition I had on my bucket list because I wanted to spend them all with you. I rejected every invitation to travel with friends because you promised you’d take me there when you got home. You swore to bring me to the mountains and accompany me to a basketball match I had always wanted to watch since I was a kid. I had every opportunity, and all the money, but I let go of them because I held on to your promise that you’d keep me company.
Wanting to make our future easier for you, I decided to get a house and lot for us. I looked for another job and sacrificed all the free time I had to earn more money and pay for the equity all by myself. I was thinking if we already have our own house, it won’t be too much for you to save money for us. You won’t need to contemplate each day, wondering how your meager income would allow you to support your family and at the same time marry me and build our own family.
But fate has his own mind, and so did you. You easily gave in to temptations and forgot the woman who sweated tears and blood only to make our future possible. Your weakness was stronger than your love for me, I guess. Though you gravely regretted everything you did, fate gave me too many reasons not to give you another chance. Yes, I would love to forgive you and embrace you again. I tried; you know that for sure. But the consequences were too hard for me to swallow. It took me almost a year to finally face the truth that we are no longer a possibility but a fallacy.
Parting from you was the most difficult not only because I loved you with all my heart, but also because I had sacrificed my entire life only to make you the happiest man on earth. For six years, I forgot who I was and what I wanted. For six years, I waited and cried. For six years, I endured pain and waived my right to personal happiness. For six years, I was lost and died in your love.
It wasn’t easy to say goodbye and embrace a life without you. I dreaded loneliness, especially the thought of facing my future all by myself. I often ask myself where I am heading after this. I cried at the sight of seeing myself alone inside the house I bought for us. I wondered if I could ever get back to being solo, of not having to depend on you all the time. I almost went to the point of accepting you again, of swallowing my pride, and of forgetting how much spit you threw on my face. But I tried my very best not to.
Much to my surprise, it wasn’t all that bad. Despite crying quietly nonstop for weeks after we broke up, I just woke up one day realizing how blessed I was to finally free myself and let you go. Less than two months after I decided to say goodbye, I was surprised to have done so much for myself. I was finally able to watch the basketball game I had always wanted to see since I was nine years old. I was able to travel to places without the need to wait for you to go home. I didn’t have to regret spending too much money because I no longer have to save money for us. I was able to buy the things that I want and splurge on spas and massages minus the guilt of not having you around.
Breaking up with you, I learned how to love myself more. I started to appreciate the company of my friends and the beauty of meeting new people. I finally had the chance to enjoy my time with my friends without worrying too much about what you’ll think and feel. I get to spend more time strolling around the mall without me having to rush home and speak to you before you go to sleep. And I no longer have to cry each night wondering how we could still make our relationship work.
Don’t get me wrong; I never regretted loving you for six years. Though our relationship robbed a quarter of my life and made me cry buckets each night, it wasn’t too horrible, either. I know you loved me and how much you wanted to be with me. But perhaps we’re just really not meant to be.
Despite the pain you’ve caused and the dreams you’ve shattered, I still thank you for your love and for teaching me the true meaning of love. Most importantly, I thank you for making me appreciate my life and everything that I have. Yes, I may have lost you, but in losing you, I found my way back. And that alone made the whole process easier, because I am much better, happier, and more at peace now than when I was with you.