privacy at last

It's been a while since I wrote on these pages. As far as I'm concerned, there is only one other person who knows that this live journal exists. For now I will revel in that and just type away.

It's almost three months since I moved back to my hometown and it's taking a lot of getting used to. I'm back to work, unbeknownst to my employers in Canada that is. I do have to let them know probably by the end of next month that I plan to stay on in Manila for the meantime. Nothing is certain and I have started something new.

There are two reasons why I am here. My foremost reason is to take care of my mom. Since my pops passed away in March, I have taken it as my responsibility to look after my mom. This I truly believe in my heart is my calling. 

The other reason is to face the fate that I ran away from almost four years ago. The fate of falling completely and undeniably in love with Buko. I know it's insane. He treats me as if I don't exist almost 90% of the time. He's a free spirit. Just as I am. So I've decided that in order for this to work, I must learn to be anchored. At least one of us should be. I remember saying goodbye to him in November 2005. I swore to myself that I would end it then. It was easier when I was physically away for all this time. I migrated. It was something I needed to do. I went home twice but literally hid from him. It was the best thing to do, I decided. 

But in January, when I saw him for all of five minutes, I lost my resolve. When I left, again, I decided that I was going to find a way back to him. Except my father beat me to it by dying and effectively bringing me back home.

So here I am trying to face reality. The same one I ran away from. I know it can't be the same, a few things have changed since then. We both aged and hopefully, we matured along the way. Both having different experiences and both having different ways of looking at life. Both hardened. Sometimes I think he's the Ice Prince incarnate. When I manage to actually make him smile, I go through the roof. Such cheap thrills, I know. But I revel in these things. Just as I live for our five minute dates, coffee breaks in between his lightning speed lifestyle. I'm sometimes lucky to actually sit with him longer for a complete meal. Then with one phone call, he's back in his world, ready to fly at a moment's notice.

Yet I wait. I learn to be patient. I learn not to ask too many questions. I just wait. Because in the 10% that he is present, he is sweet, he is unpredictable, he is explosive or sometimes just piercingly silent. Yes that 10% is worth all my wait. Sometimes I wonder if we were living together, that 10% might expand to 20% at the most, but I imagine, things would not improve drastically. 

I imagine that he is my home as much as I am his. I want to believe in this completely, and this is where my weakness lies. I have known for the longest time that I'm only totally at peace when I am with him. I should have told him then, four years ago, but I was in denial. I refused to believe that I could need anyone that much.

So now I am back to where I started. I cannot tell him how I feel, I have to show him. So I write, leaving pieces of my heart, hoping that if he followed the clues, he will find his way to me. I know that sooner or later, I will have to become more implicit. Like telling him from time to time those three little paralyzing words. I love you.