1. Damnit! Yet another day wasted! I already slept [relatively] early yet I still woke up at 5:30PM! I cursed out loud seeing the time, thinking I should have fixed and sent my CV today. Then when I went down, I learned Papa blackout again out and fell in the bathroom while bathing! He hit his head and scraped his leg. I feel so bad. I asked him how he was and why he blacked out. He said he tried to talk to my sister so he can fix the two of us but she walked out on him. His blood pressure rose. Mama talked to me about it too, but I kept quiet. I don’t want to have the blood of Papa on my hands, but neither do I want to bow to somebody who is wrong. I might do it for them, but both my sister and I will know (since we both hate ka-plastikan) that things will never be the same.
2. Talked with Butler on the phone after his clinic hours. Again, we fought. This time, about his making up excuses and trying to fight for them which always turns to be losing battle if it’s me he’s telling them to because I do not take lightly to excuses. Same fate befell the unspeakable but since he never allowed me to speak my mind, my resentment for him mounted day by day.
I remember once I texted him and he didn’t reply, so knowing he’s going to give me the excuse “I didn’t read your text until later in the day” I left work, barged into his house and into his room, saw him sleeping, got his phone and checked if my message has been read. It was read, but I never told him I knew. I brought him breakfast and waited for him to wake up. He greeted me cheerily when he woke and we went through the whole day like he didn’t receive my message… all the while, I was waiting for him to bring it up. He didn’t. He dug his own grave. Much later in the day, I asked him if he saw my message. He said he didn’t. He’s dead. This time, I had all evidence to call him a liar — the accusation I was dying to shout every time he would give me an excuse without blinking. I did. Then he said he doesn’t know how my message appears to be read when he never really read it. I almost threw him down the stairs. ‘Til now I still remember all the major excuses he has given me and the promise of getting back at him when the time comes. I still believe I will be able to. I never forgive people who think they have the capacity to pull the wool over my head and get away with it.
I can’t reiterate enough how tired I am with fighting. He’s right. We mostly fight Mondays and Thursdays — the days after we meet. I don’t know why that is. Maybe the promises/commitments he makes to me after one fight are all forgotten because we had such a good time the previous day. I never forget any promise or commitment, however. I’m one to always notice a slip up because the promise is always on my mind. For me, a slip means lack of resolve and insincerity when the promise was made… and I always need promises made to me kept, ever since time immemorial. Then after he promises to fix things again on a Mon/Thurs, things will be fine and dandy on a Tuesday/Friday because he’s careful of his actions and the things he says, then we meet again the next day and have a great time… then the cycle repeats itself.