so what really happened...

this post is a continuation or a conclusion of my previous post.

I found a box with some of his past in it (letters and rings). One ring had bothered me the most. It was a beautiful. Inside in an old black velvet dusty box was an engagement ring.

What crossed my mind was exactly this, "What the fuck is this engagement ring doing here? Why is he keeping his ex's engagement ring here? In our house? WHY?".

Those were the screaming thoughts in my head. Fuming mad thoughts.

While all this was happening, he was at work. We were exchanging texts. Him, trying to explain and calm me down. Me, trying to break up with him and things one might say in anger.

He got home late at night. We had the talk.

He said that he forgot all about those letters. He wasn't aware it was still there. And he tossed ALL of it out. Good.

And he proceeded to tell me that the engagement ring hasn't been given to anybody. Nobody had deserved it. No ex has seen it and certainly, have had it.

You know what else sucks? He told me he was planning to give it to me on our trip to the Philippines next year. But I blew it. And um, now I just have to wait for the surprise.

The thing is, I love surprises. BUT I absolutely hate it when somebody tells me they have a surprise for me. It drives me crazy. Which brings to the other thing that I hate, waiting. I absolutely have no patience for surprises.

But I guess, I'll just have to wait.

Bitch.

pouring it all out...

Hi, my name is April. I'm 25 years of age and a divorcee.

I've had my heart broken a lot of times and it's not fun. I try my best to snap out of it and move on. People always say, "What's the use of crying?". But I can't help but cry. I wear my heart on my sleeve and that's just how it's going to be.

I tend to be vulnerable. Maybe because most of the time, I chose to keep quiet. I chose to go on my own and not mind people's mean remarks. And I know with this choice, I'm treated like a door mat.

People sometimes call me timid, weak and somebody "you can chew and spit out". I just let them be. Because I don't want to prove myself to anybody, what for?

Today, I was just going to clean the house while I'm alone and I have the time.

What I didn't expect was to uncover some things from the past. Somebody's past. I don't know what to make of it. Was it a way of clinging to a piece of the past? Or was it just "accidentally" forgotten?

There is one thing I know of myself. I don't like omission of facts. Yes, I am fully aware that we all have past. But once both of you have talked about leaving it all behind, then that means leaving ALL of it behind.

I can't bear to see a remnant of someone's past.

More importantly, I can't take it all in that what I am is a filler of what somebody couldn't have. I could never fill in those shoes. Nor stand in for those shadow. I will not be able to replace the-once-was-the-leading-lady of the story. I could never fit in the mold. That was her. This is me.

So right now, I am so perplexed. My heart is broken and I am a beautiful mess.

I know, this too shall pass. It hurts like a bitch. But I've been through the worst.

I realize that there is no use in crying, but for now, this is the best I could do.

CAUTION:

I'm going through a major blog renovation. Yet again.
I figured that since there's a lot of endless things to do in the house, I'm going to take out some of my decorating frustrations and aspirations here on my blog.

Pardon the debris.

It'll be done soon and I'm updating all my blog read links and will resume to regular blogging.

Agenda:

• 8:00am-12:00pm - Work
• 12:00pm-1:00pm - Cook, eat lunch and clean up the kitchen
• 1:00-2:00pm - Laundry
• 2:00pm-3:00pm - Take a sweet sweet nap.
• 3:00-4:00pm - Laundry, again
• 4:00pm - 5:00pm - Clean the office/guest room
• Maybe I'll do all of these tomorrow? No?
• Oh yeah, stop procrastinating, it's ridiculous already!

Oh, and the 30-day Shred DVD came in the mail from Amazon.com yesterday. I can't wait to try it. I've read this bitch can your butt to fitness good reviews, meaning it's a total torture and I'm hoping this will be a routine for me and David. One that we can stick to.

I really need to lose about 30lbs! I want to get back to my pre-US immigration weight.

I'm so out of shape, good luck to me.

on things that have been running on my mind...

• Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning - I want a clutter-free house. Seriously. I didn't think it would be too hard to ask.
• Laundry - it seems endless.
  
• Home Decor - I want this apartment to be full of personality (our personality). I have been looking for inspiration and I'm hoping it's not going to be expensive and David goes along with it.
  
• Crafts - I already have too many pending craft projects.
  
• Blog List - for some reason, my blog roll doesn't allow me to add my fave blog list. I guess I have to do it manually.
• Time - I want a lot of time to do all of these...
  

it's creeping up, slowly...

Depression. Self Pity. That's what it is.

It's like this relentless feeling that would not stop. I am fighting it. I really am. But sometimes, it gets the best of me.

Like tonight.

I was fine, a little bit stressed, but nothing too bad. I've been browsing my friends' page over at Friendster and MySpace, checking out photos and getting updates of how their life has been. It's nothing stalkerish, that's what a social networking site is for, right?

Anyhow, I saw two friend's pages. They've just given birth. Months ago. And bam! They're back to their pre-pregnancy weight.

I cannot also deny that Summer's almost here and it's been quite a Summer in the Philippines already. People in their swimsuit. Damn, they look so good!

Then, that's when this dark unapologetical self pity consumes me. Here I am, no kids and I'm FAT.

For some reason, that word just makes me cringe and cry. After being called fat numerous times, I finally broke down. I cried on David's shoulders, pouring out what I've been holding back.

I thank God for giving me a great boyfriend. He was very supportive, he calmed me down and he made me feel better. I know that he didn't just say things to "make me feel better", I can feel his honesty and his sincerity.

He reminded me that he's the only one that matters. What other people say doesn't and shouldn't mean anything.

I know he is right. I should start believing him and keeping that in mind.

The goodness in the heart is what matters anyway... That and I've got somebody who really loves me, fats and all.

things to do:

• Organize the walk in closet. I already have 3 shirts in the donation box, that's a sign of progress, right?
• Toss out shoes that gives me torture I don't wear.
• Take out more boxes to the garbage can. The thing is, our trash day here is Wednesday. It feels like forever!
• Tackle the mess pile laundry that I have to do in the guest bedroom.
• Organize my desk upstairs.
• Stop procrastinating!
  

Who would have thought?

For the first time in my life, I detest shopping for clothes for myself. You heard that right. I’m loathing the thought of it.

Why? Because this time, I REALLY NEED to shop. See, I have been stuffing my face with so much food and so much junk, not to mention I went back to drinking soda that I might as well have a Pepsi IV. So it would not be much of a surprise that I gained weight. A lot.

Yesterday morning was the rude awakening, to the truest sense of the word.

I tried every bottoms I have in my closet. Nothing fits. My work capris, heck, I’d be lucky if I can zip it up. My black slacks that I got from JC Penney not so long ago (and I haven’t worn them yet!), I can’t even button it. Well, I can button it but you’d never at look muffins the same way again.

See my dilemma? I was depressed all day yesterday. I felt like I’m a huge hippo sitting on the front desk. That would be comical if it was some other day, but yesterday, I just want to break down and cry.

The boyfriend doesn’t have any problem with my weight. He keeps on refuting my statement every time I tell him that I’m fat. He says, I may be pudgy but not fat. Being of an awesome boyfriend that he is, he bought a treadmill. That sucker is sitting in our guest bedroom collecting dust because I cannot work out in such a cluttered room. (We haven’t unpacked all of our stuff yet.)

I know I can work out and lose it. But I cannot keep wearing the same skirt or pants (those few that fit and just create an “acceptable” muffin top) week by week until I drop down two sizes. Hell. No.

So the only solution is to get me some new work clothes with a bigger size.

Shit.