I still don't understand the reason why he demanded for a cool-off.

I've cried myself to sleep.

Alone time has turned into something that I don't look forward to.

Each time I close my eyes, it's his face I see.

I've been trying to find the comic side to this unwelcome sadness.

Laughed it off, to no avail.

Pray.

Shrugged the emptiness only to discover more emptiness.

Grief, somehow, has offered a certain kind of comfort.

I haven't sent him any text message, haven't called him, haven't seen him, haven't talked to him.

Have talked about him.

Have thought about him.

Have wondered if he's thinking about me too. (I simply don't have any way of knowing.)

When I heard his voice over the telephone last Friday, altho he called the office NOT to talk to me, the effect on me was instant. I felt a glimmer of hope. Was it his way to reach out? Did he sound sad? Was the call intentional? I will never know, but I'd like to think so. (Please humor me on this one, again.)

I am blessed to have wonderfully supportive family and friends around who are willing to listen to everything I have to say, who are ready to pounce on my bf if he'll ever show his face, who never got tired of my over-analysis of the issues and who've prayed with me. The same persons who've shared their reactions - some want to smack his face with beer bottles, others would enjoy torturing him with goons, or those who would like to pinch him just to put some sense back in his head. Varied degrees of hate alright, typically human.

While my friends concocted ideas of knocking his head down, I've thought otherwise. His shabby treatment of me don't need to be dealt with revenge. If my friends can't wait to put him in his place, I'd still go through lengths to stand by him - with blinders on.

I'm not perfect, he isn't perfect. We are perfect for each other? Hopefully.

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