Dear journal

 

We made love again. Call me a whore but I can’t resist his touch. He called me up and wants to meet up from what he told me would be the last time we might see each other again.

I refused at first, because the pain was too much when I see him. He insisted and threatened that we might not see each other again.

I heeded and went at his place.

We watched a movie and sooner he started touching my thighs. I could not fight the feeling anymore. I heeded to his every request.

I wanted him more than ever. The feeling of longing, passion and love seemed escalating with every touch.

I hugged him from behind like I used to do before, I expected he'd be turning towards me and hug me back...

...but he didn't...

I cried...

The man I love just could not love me anymore...

The past few days have been quiet depressing for me and the frustrating part is that I can’t seem to figure out what makes me feel this way. I’ve opted to seclude myself from my friends for days in order to not direct the stress I feel to them.

I find it hard to sleep again and consequently get late for work.

I still feel the melancholy when I think of him.

The sadness seems unbearable that I lock myself in the comfort room and cry.

I’m getting tired of the things that are happening at work now. It seems that I’m somehow caught up in the middle of pathetic professional jealousy. It’s kind of hard to trust anyone at work now, the least of my worries is that I will be even a part of such lowly fiasco, but come to think of it I may be unconsciously engaging myself. I must control my stupid mouth sometimes or else this might backfire, the least of what I want is to be tagged as the “tsismoso” of the office.

I am constantly reminding myself of maintaining at all times professionalism and not to stoop down to the level of mongering rumors or even talking about people behind their backs no matter how deserving they are of such disrespect.