I feel my faith wavering as I wonder if we will ever really be together.

I have been battling depression as it seems our future is a bleak possibility.

I try to stop the sobs wanting to escape when I think of the events we miss out on each other.

I wipe quickly the tears that escape from the pain in my heart that squeezes out the joy in me.

I pray for endurance as I wait on the day I will see him again.

I yearn for a sign that one day he and I will never be this far apart.

I beg the Almighty to make this “one day” very very very soon.

I count the blessings: having him, seeing him, talking to him, being loved by him.

I wait some more. Even though it seems so long.

So long.

So long.

The waiting seems so long.

And here I am in my room, an afternoon alone. Just me, myself, and I.

Around two in the afternoon it seemed like it was going to be an eternity. A long afternoon without my boyfriend to talk to or friends to chat, I was awry of an afternoon of loneliness. If I really wanted to avoid boredom I could’ve read a book or watched Rat Race or The Funeral. If I really wanted to get away from the silence of the house I could’ve laced my running shoes and worked on a five mile run at Mission Creek. If I really wanted to escape I could’ve willed myself to sleep until tomorrow. If I really wanted to avoid solitude I could’ve packed a book, a drink, and have a nice picnic at the beach front. But knowing myself more than I know anyone else, I know these things will entertain me for the moment. But really, right now all I need is to be alone.

Growing up in a family of six, I wouldn’t say I grew up isolated. I shared a room with my older sister until she graduated from highschool and moved to University. But despite us sharing a room, competing for my parents attention and approval with my other siblings, and having a unique name which draws people’s unsolicited attention I have been for most part of my life alone. For a time being I tried to fit in. You know like a duck lost in a pond of swans and I forced myself to imprint on them, to think similar to them, to move as a unit with them, to be a family. But I was a stubborn duck. I never did imprint and despite my best intentions to, I found out that the more I try to warp my head to their ideology and theology a struggle within me left me stressed and hypocritical. The more I tried to belong, the more I felt alone. And desperate.

It’s been a long journey for me, learning how to be alone. First came the loneliness, then the fear that I will forever be in a state where no one will like me or love me or take me for who I am, and as the length of my solitude grew then I became impatient...desperate that time is running out and I will never be happy again. So I traveled, I moved around circles avoiding myself and always making sure I am surrounded by friends or semi-friends, of boyfriends or half-boyfriends, of partners and lovers. But the more I surround myself with people I felt twice the loneliness; the more reckless choices I made the more guilt I felt. Guilt for knowing that deep in my heart my actions contradict my intention and it will only lead to self-destruction.

My pursuit of belonging is the source of all my loneliness. Once I’ve understood it, it was natural to choose what was right rather than what is expected or what I hoped to be. As I started choosing what was right despite meaning standing by myself the more I came to accept who I am — flaws and all.

I started small — going to the restroom without my girlfriends, taking walks, reading in a library. And as I continued with this small excursions of "D time" eventually I was sitting at a coffee shop watching people, unrolling my mat and doing yoga at the park, making conversations at bench parks, exchanging pleasantries to my elderly neighbors. I may never be able to be comfortable enough to go clubbing by myself and dance at to the beat without a partner (but then again that has never real been my thing) but from that young girl who was afraid and sad of sitting by myself in the front of the house, I would say I've come a long way.

The desire to escape was replaced by passions to find ways that make me celebrate my life. Discovering music that moves me, unfamiliar places that astound me, moments that break my face into a smile, understanding my level of patience and stretching it, rearing my anger, waiting patiently for the love that lasts a lifetime and so much more made me come to terms that bottom line it’s up to me to choose positive thoughts, positive words, positive actions. And that includes not obsessing about my family not getting me or that their religious sect doesn’t fit me. Perhaps in time, as I continue to evolve, those things as well will happen.

So perhaps one day you will find yourself more lonely than alone. Be patient. And then think... you're not really alone. You have yourself a your life full of experiences and a life ahead of possibilities. So go and take life in, not everyone may appreciate the same things like you do but that doesn't mean you're less connected or less loved or of lesser being. It simply makes your life and others more interesting.

It’s been two months and a day since my last post. There has been things I have been wanting to write about but as summer is here, the urge to write paled in comparison to my urge to get out and have some sun. B came to town and spent 10 wonderful days with me, that altogether is worth a different post which I most likely will not write as I want to keep those memories for just him and I. I’ve moved out my old place but technically is still living in the same house. The details why I moved is not worth an ounce of time and energy for me to write. That chapter is closed and let me just reassure you that I am happy where I am at now.

Tonight I find myself doing laundry after coming home watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo at my friend’s place. And since I didn't have much to do in between loads, I decided to fix my blog due to a feedback given to me by my friend some two months ago. And since I'm on my blog already I might as well write something that has been festering in my mind. It first started Monday morning at work on my break. I chanced upon a newspaper and a particular article seemed to jump off the page and shake me from the core. Now if you knew me, I’m somewhat sardonic when it comes to reading newspapers. After all, so many years of reading about corruption and deception by people you vote for protect and enforce your rights I’ve somewhat trained my brain to be desensitized by lies. But Ashley Anne Kirilow is really a piece of work.

I’ve always tried to live by the saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover” and to keep any opinion about another person to myself especially if I don’t know that person. But really. When a woman fakes cancer for greed and attention, that pretty much is disgusting. Now I have never had cancer, and pray I never do, but I have had family members who’ve died from it and those who suffered from it. I have friends who’s has close relations who suffer from it. I may have never had it but I have a clear sense of how pain and trauma a person gets from it as well as the person’s friends and family. So how dare you Ashley Anne Kirilow insult those who have suffered and died from such disease as well as belittle the pain the family and friends of real cancer patients suffered.

God knows the burden of guilt she is carrying and the remorse she feels. She may have come out clean and apologized for her actions. But like all bad choices, consequences are there for her to face. The challenging part for her though is rebuilding the trust she has broken so badly especially with her family...if she is even given a chance.

"And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had she been in my place and I in hers, though I hated her with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against her. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished her from his society as long as he desired hers. The moment his regard ceased, I could have torn her heart out, and drank her blood! But, till then - if you don't believe me, you don't know me - till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of her head!" — Emily Brontë

Probably the only thing inappropriate than B‘s behavior was my reaction to it. Erhmmm...let me rephrase that. The only thing inappropriate than what he did, was my reaction to it. How I see it now, twenty-four hours after it happened, I threw a hissy fit more than Mariah Carey and Left-Eye (TLC) combined. It started out from that red flag detector each woman has and the sirens of my intuition set off when I first saw them friends in Facebook. I know this shouldn’t be deal. Let me tell you straight out that this used to be not a deal at all. In all my past relationships I’ve always been indifferent towards ex-girlfriends. But then again, I can only be immune for so much.

He’s told me again and again that he loves me. He’s always given me time and attention. And really if I had any dignity last night I should’ve forgotten about it and gotten to bed. I knew months ago she was an ex who cheated on him. But what I can’t understand was why he was

okay being friends with her but not his other ex whom they share children and cheated on him too. The double standard is just beyond my black and white mind and I just couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was still somehow attracted to him as much as she is still attracted to him even after kids and husbands and wives and God knows how many years they’ve ended their relationship. This and the many other things I’ve known fueled the doubt I felt and jealousy smoldered in me. I would be all giddy in love with him but the moment her name comes up it took a lot of internal wrestling for me to beat that green eyed monster inside. But this battle with jealousy ended in my defeat when I saw the phone records. There I was staring at it, hyperventilating and not knowing if I will cry or run or just die. But I couldn’t drop it and I certainly should have. I have a bad habit at that, letting things fester inside of me and then boom! I become this feisty bitch who wants to be off with the head of anyone I am pissed off. Although they say it’s healthier to let it out than to bottle it up, in this case it was certainly unhealthy for both of us. B lost sleep and got really upset. And I looked pathetic, insecure, and immature, a look that surely isn’t sexy on me at all.

Maybe I am acting a bit too paranoid and having a similar experience in the past where so and so ex boyfriend hooks up with a common friend and cheats on me with her all the while making a pretense that he loves me, only me, loyal to me, with all his life doesn’t help at all. But just because I am being paranoid doesn’t mean it isn’t true. After all, there’s is more than one of everything, including cheating boyfriends. As they say, history repeats itself. And yes, lightning can strike the same place again despite popular belief. So who is to say that what I am suspecting isn’t true...if it happened before it can always happen again.

Nothing pisses me off more than a lie. And for me, emotional deception is the worst of all. It’s bad enough that you want to punch them in the face for stringing you along, but you also want to kick yourself while you’re down for falling for their bullshit. If you really care about someone, do yourself and them a favor. Tell the truth, no matter how much it hurts. Because believe me, lying hurts far more than any truth ever could. And no thanks to bad choice in men before, I’ve grown quite distrustful of the gender and have worked so much to protect myself.

On the other hand, perhaps I’ve never really grasped how much he loved me. I know that he was meant to be with me forever. I know that he is the exception in my life. I know that he won’t ever cheat on me. So who is to say that what I am suspecting is true...if it happened before it doesn’t necessarily mean it will happen again.

By letting my jealousy take control of me, I know exactly what I am doing - driving a wedge between us. A wedge that can turn into a chasm that will forever separate us if I don’t work on it. And if there is anything I fear the most it’s losing him. I’ve captured his heart and staked my claim on him long before I became the name after the words “In a Relationship with...” And I know that even if he never really said it in words, I know to him being me is enough for him. I love him. And I am really sorry for hurting him last night and letting my jealousy take the better of me. There is no excuse for what I did and said and almost done. Especially when he proves his faithfulness to me over and over. So as much as as it is going to be a difficult war for me to fight off and control my jealousy, I am going to do it. Because the truth is, when I get jealous and let it get over me I hurt myself as much as I hurt him.