Pork and Love

I lost count. But I feel like I have been “biologically purged” from pork for about two months now.

Unless it was masked as otherwise, I haven’t eaten, not nearly even touched, pork since that day my system refused to take it in. Of the many porkies I love, I would never imagine living without bacon, chicharon, ma ling luncheon meat, and lechong kawali! Now I detest them. I’m not even enticed by the smell of seared bacon anymore. I don’t turn my head when I hear the crackling sound of crunchy chicharon. This happened not by choice. I loved pork. Lechong kawali was my favorite.

I don’t really know (too lazy to google), if there’s a health benefit I can get from this. I don’t feel my body getting lighter. I’m not gaining muscles. The only thing that changed was that now I get embarrassed when friends or colleague serve pork, and I refuse to eat it. I get asked if I changed religion. But most of the time I get teased of being on a diet. No. This is not about religion and diet. Yes, this is something I can’t explain.

I still eat beef. But if my system will start to not take it, I think I can still survive. There’s still chicken. And fish. And paper. And vegetables. (Haha! Yes that’s the order).

I don’t miss pork. But I miss love. (Okay, dear reader, I was waiting for you to vomit so there’s your cue.)

Sometimes I wish that love was like my pork appetite. It just shuts down on its own. But I’m thankful that it’s not. Because I would never have the idea how to bring my appetite back, nor would I’d find a good reason to do so.

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That girl from the past

A few nights ago I dreamed about this girl from the past: She was on a bus and I saw her like she was the only passenger there. She looked very sad, almost crying. I approached her and asked if the seat next to her was taken. She shook her head and I took it as a sign she’s allowing me to sit next to her. We didn’t talk. I barely moved. At that moment all that ever mattered was she was beside me. The bus moves.

Of course I knew she belonged to someone else. I couldn’t make any move. I’d so badly wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. Not possible… But then she fell asleep. She fell asleep on my narrow, bony shoulders. The highway suddenly became bumpy. She struggled to stay on my narrow shoulders. She almost fell. Instinctively, I caught her head, and I held it safe on my shoulders. It seemed to be a long ride.

Suddenly without opening her eyes, she appeared to have woken up…then she kissed me. And I felt her pain.

The dream skipped to something else. When I woke up, my heart felt so heavy. I missed her. But this is not right. I’ve just got over her several weeks ago. I can’t let this feeling affect me like this. Not because of this just one dream.

It has been three days. I am scared that my feelings are starting to grow back… Just because of this one dream.

It’s just a dream. I’ll give it another week – I NEED TO GET MY LIFE BACK ON TRACK.

Do you have to let it linger?

The thing is I shouldn’t just appear to be okay. I have to be okay inside.

I know that it’s too early to measure the progress I’m making in moving on. That I had to write about this again shows that something in me still, ahm…, tingles, for lack of a better term.

I think that’s the problem in having been in a relationship. You kind of get used to it. You look for that comfort you once felt with another person. Someone who has been so reassuring, so caring, so sweet (sweetest when you quarrel about petty things then quickly make up). I miss every single thing.

However, it is much too important to note that you should never “linger” in the past. That’s from the Holy Book.

linger
v. intr

1. To be slow in leaving, especially out of reluctance.

I had to look it up. And seeing it defined as something related to speed, i.e. slow, I know I should pick up the pace. Having it defined that way also explains why it’s difficult to move on: Reluctance (exhibiting or marked by unwillingness). So choose to move on and be willing to.

I’ll keep this short 😉

God’s Best

Maybe it was the shortest relationship you’ve ever had, but it was my longest. It was my first. You were my first everything. And I was flattered when you couldn’t believe it. You were my very first kiss, and my second, and third and and… okay you get the point. You were my only girl.

Because we were distant, I hated working on Saturdays, I couldn’t go home for you. The first time we saw each other as a “we” you waited for me until 2am. When I dropped by your house straight from Manila, I was nervous. I think you saw that, and as I hurriedly left, you asked for a hug. I gave you a kiss on the cheek. It was the most magical night, and I couldn’t believe it was real.

I am most comfortable with you I never had to pretend. When I grabbed your hand on our first date, I didn’t know you were surprised at the gesture. Everything was natural to me, it was as if my hands were designed to hold yours (okay it was a bit awkward, I was living a fantasy, I didn’t know what to do!). I know I had to let you walk a long way, I may have even dragged you a bit, because of the awkward way I walked. You hate walking.

You were never the foodie type. When we went out, you ate almost anything, yet you didn’t eat much. I think you preferred eating at home, your place in particular. I like staring at you when you eat, and I love it when you ask me why I stare at you while you eat. I love it most when you spoonfed me, especially with that lumpiang sariwa you forced me to eat. It didn’t taste bad at the time.

You were always late for not less than two hours. But you know, even if you always were, just as long as you came, I was on high – you are worth every wait.

You wore subtle perfume. The kind that I had to get near you enough to smell it. I love how you smell. I love how your hair smells. When you sniffed me aloud and you told me you memorized how I smell, that was one of the many sweet things you said to me. I stink. But you said I didn’t. And then you hugged me so tight.

We used to chat every night. I didn’t mind staying up late even if I had work the next day. You energized me so much. Then late night chats evolved to texting. Then when you got tired of texting, we called each other up a lot. I just love your voice. I love all your stories, and you never ran out of it.

We watched Wow Mali at the same time while we were apart and we both laugh so hard over the phone on the slapsticks of your “tropa.” Your laugh is distinct. When you laugh, it’s as though it gets suspended in mid-air, gasping for breath. Makes me happy all the time.

You sang about 20 songs to me once over the phone while I was stuck in traffic. If it were possible to fall in love with you more, it was that very moment. It was the moment I became afraid of ever losing you..

Which I did eventually. I lost you. For whatever reason, it was unclear. I thought long and hard and cried about it, until one day came. I no longer needed reasons. You were gone. And finding reasons won’t bring you back.

If I could tell your heart what to feel, I’d be tempted to make it love me so you’ll come back. But that defeats the very purpose of love: that is the decision to share yourself to another unconditionally.

My prayer is that you find God’s best for you. If you already did, then I guarantee you, both of our prayers are answered. So always smile. And always have a date with God. It makes all the difference…