Letters to you.

Hey you,

It’s been 3 months since the break up and I’m proud you got this far. You thought that your world was ending, but surprise! Here you are, broken but fighting. The past few months have been difficult. You’ve spent more nights crying yourself to sleep than you care to admit to anyone. You’ve put on this show, but the number of bottles you’ve drank far surpass the number of forced smiles you’ve given people whenever they ask, “Kumusta na man mo?” 9 years is a lifetime, and you can forgive people for believing that you and him would last forever. You almost believed it, too.

I’ve seen how many times you’ve tried to make sense of what happened. I’ve seen you go through the stages of grief, deluding yourself into thinking you’ve “accepted” things, only to find yourself crying at every Sam Smith song like a deranged person. I want you to know that the mistakes you made do not define you. And while you still love him, you can’t be together anymore. You are no longer his only happiness, as much as he isn’t yours. You can’t see this now, but hang in there. It will happen.

I know the last relationship has left you wary and scarred, and the thought of putting yourself out there again scares you senseless. You’re a 33 year old gay guy (which might as well be 60 in the LGBT world), and other than your intense dislike of the song “Hayaan mo sila”, you’re pretty average, really.

The thing is, you don’t need to start dating again to feel whole. In the past few weeks, you’ve found comfort in the most surprising places. You’ve rebuilt bridges you thought were broken when you left behind a world just to create a new one with him. You’ve learned so many things about yourself, rediscovered the overwhelming love of family and friends, and found that most the time, you’re okay with just being you.

Kahibaw ko naa’y times nga struggle jud. Labi na karon o, hapit na ang Valentines. Lami i-maoy sa? Maoy lang. Just know that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I will accept you in all shapes and sizes, and in all states, too: crazy, delusional, nihilistic, masochistic, whatever. We’re in this together, you and I. That, I can promise. Happy Valentines, self. I love you.



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