“Are you ready?” my housemate asked.

(She was reacting to seeing my boxes and small furniture piled up in the living room.)

“Physically, yes.” I replied as I pointed at my boxes. Most of the boxes were still open with an assortment of Whey protein bottles and other junk.

“Emotionally… no.”


Mahirap kasi nasanay na ako na may kasama ako lagi sa kwarto.

May laging yumayakap sa akin dati.

I know, so fucking cheesy!

I mean seriously kasi. It’s kind of unfair to draw comparisons but that’s how the arguments had panned out.

It’s like I’m just a bullet and he’s the train.

What right do I have to feel what I feel when he is going through hell? It would be best if I kept quiet, patient, and walked with him during this difficult period. After what happened to him, to us, late last year.

Kahit anong gawin ko, kahit baliktarin ko… it’s still the same. Even if I stood by him, I would be losing a piece of myself each day. I’ve become a monster in frustration. I’ve said this before.

Yes, I’ve cried. It breaks my heart that I am leaving. I’m not heartless.

All I feel is that it is the right thing to do. Something’s got to budge. We cannot live on a street with a dead end.


There’s a scene in HBO’s Girls when Hannah’s mom, still distraught after learning her husband is gay, shares with a group of other women how she feels.

One by one the other women share what’s bothering them (like a cheating husband). So when Hannah’s mom says out loud, “My husband’s gay.”…


“I wish my husband was gay!” — one of the women blurts out, almost mocking Hannah’s mom. The women continue laughing but the camera stays focused on Hannah’s mom.

She’s NOT laughing.

Sadly, no one at that table seemed to understand what horror she was going through.