Did he ever say “I love you”?

Did he ever say “I love you”?
We live in a world where we value the idea of love, yet we do not fully commit ourselves to what it entails.
We have romanticized and have associated ourself to the story of love that are so like the movies: No strings Attached, Friends with Benefits, or 50 Days of Summer.

We connect yet we are so distant; we are so in love with being in love yet not with the person. We are happy but we are not real.
I know some would agree when I say that this type of relationship is confusing. It gives you moments of paralyzing anxiety wondering how much of a worth you are to the other or if you are worth anything at all. You get confused with the way he treats you. He is sweet and then forgets about you the next moment. You spend some of your time sulking somewhere dark and cold and thinking what are we? Yet, you cannit ask because you know what you are is unfavorable to you. 

However, no matter how foolish we think the situation is, we tend to believe that there indeed is something. And that adulthood tells us that that something may not be labelled as long as you both know how you feel. And if only to compensate the lack of security, you make yourself believe and you allow to blossom a one sided relationship.

But it is wrong

Life is not supposed to be like the films you watch on Netflix where the characters could go on playing around and then decide they want each other. That is not real. That could never be real. Endings in movies are profitable but your life isn’t tagged with a movie ticket. Your emotions don’t depend on the audience’s reactions. 

Your life is real.
In order for a relationship to be true, it has to be labelled. If there is one thing I have learned, that is commitment is the utmost proof of love. And a relationship void of such is doomed to fail. Not because you are infedilous, but because an uncommited relationship is a kind that is confused and insecure. A kind that is only good for the ego and a curse for the soul. A kind that wastes time and youthfulness. A kind that is not a relationship.

Yes, he is kind, yes, he takes care of you, but did he ever say I love you? Don’t mistake his actions for his real emotions. As Shakespeare puts it,”all the world’s a stage, and all men and women merely players.”  

Do not give more than what is required. Do not be the wife to a man who can’t even see himself holding your hand. Don’t be taken head over heels by false togetherness. Do not be the secret girl he encourages to believe is special is in hidden as you “don’t need to prove anything to the world.”

You deserve a man who is proud to have you. A man who introduces you to all the people special to him. Someone who does not make you worry, someone who does not make you cry. Someone who does not make you feel doubtful of who you are. Someone who does not strangle you in his unreasonable rules of not doing this and that, someone who does not confine you only in his world just so he can have you anytime.

You need to be with a man you do not need to dumb down yourself for. A man who trusts you. A man who never lies to you. A man who does not make you stupid. A man who does not make you wait. A man who tell you who you are in his life and means it. 

Did he ver say I love you? Regardless if he acts like Prince Charming, if he does not care about how you feel, do yourself a favor. Leave. 

Do yourself a favor. Chase the sun and run from the Grim Reaper.

Note: Writing prompt care of Carmela Dawn Abas “Did he ever say I love you” 

Grim Reaper

​He is a grim reaper of a person for he turns wisdom into foolishness

He is a grim reaper of a person for he weaves an intricate web of betrayal

He is a grim reaper of a person for he has lips of roses and a heart of thorns

He is a grim reaper of a person for he dulls two of the stars at once

He is a grim reaper of a person for he sow purity and turns it to dark

He is a grim reaper of a person for he disguises— love is never lust

He is a grim reaper of a person for he continuously tarnishes my heart.

How Do I love Myself

How do I love myself?

That is the question I ask me everyday. I live in the idea that I am well but really, I never feel content with anything I have now because I know, but I refuse to see, that my life is anchored in the past and in all my wonderful dellusions.

I chose pain. I choose it. All the time. I hurt but I still go back to the thing that broke me. And he breaks me everyday: when he is sweet now and ignores me kfor the next eight hours, when he invites me to a date, and then cancels at the last minute, when he asks me questions and then never responds to my replies. 

But it was OK. 

So, I tolerated the chains he starngled around my neck. I was his dog on a leash all because I thought it is better to have some than none. All because I thought I was in love.

This is not love. Thisi s neediness.

Love makes you grow. Love makes you hurt then makes you happy. Love makes you feel your worth. Love does not make you wait. Wait with hours on end. Love does not make you question. Love makes you feel secured. Love is crying happy tears and not of brokenheartedness. Love is loneliness sometimes and making up after that.

There was happiness in the little showers of time but there is greater somber in our woven false timelessness. I know. But I desist acceptance all due to a bit of hope. And there are times hope downs healing.

I love, he loved. 

And real love does not beg. 


How do I love myself? 

I must let go. I must bleed but I’ll let go. It would hurt but I’d let go. Because no matter how much I tell myself that it is going to be “us”,  someone someday will be giving me the love I am worthy of without me doubting what I am to him.

Then I should srop waiting. Because ladies do not beg. They are loved.

Note: hypothetical piece

Payakap ng saglit

Bago pumikit ang mata
Tinig mo ang naririnig
Umaasang sa muli ay
Mayakap ka ng saglit

Nais ko sanang magbasa ng iyong liham
Ngunit kahit isa’y wala kang pinadala
Nais ko sanang makita kung paano ang iyong pagsulat
Ngunit kahit isa’y walang maikumpara

Tatlong taon na simula ng mawala ka
Subalit ayaw ko pa ring ilagay sa ala ala

Ayaw ko pa ring tanggapin na nagkaroon
Tapos wala ng “ngayon”

Minahal mo naman ako diba?
“Mina” hal
Dahil tapos na
Wala na
Wala ka

Payakap naman uli kahit saglit
Paramdam naman ng ikaw
Ikaw na inibig

Kahit isa na lang
Para manahimik
At mahinto ang kabig ng isip
Na baka
Mayroon pa
Magising at magbalik ka na

Tatlong taon na akong naghihintay
Hanggang kailan pa ba?
Napapagod na akong lumuha
Napagod na akong magmahal
Pero kahit anong piga sa aking mata
Mahal at mahal pa rin kita

Payakap namang muli kahit ng saglit
At magpaalam ka
Nang malaman kong
di ko na kailangang maghintay
Sapagkat di ka na magbabalik

Payakap naman ng saglit
Paalam sa aking iniibig

Payakap naman kahit saglit
Sapagkat hindi kana magbabalik

The girl who’s always ignored

I am the girl who is always ignored.

People amaze me. I always believed that each person lives seeing a different view of the same world I am looking at.

I always wondered how it would feel to be them or, if by any chance, if they were thinking about how another goes about existing.

So, I try to be part of their world if only to understand my life, this life, thru their experience. I gained friends who I loved and adored. Not only because they are skilled and talented but because they are all nice and they would make a wonderful member of my made up family of acquaintances.

And then I grew up and fell in love. The kind of love you vow into “from now throughout a lifetime”. So, I do everything to keep them with me. To keep them, him mine.

But then after all the caring, the “how are you” texts, the hellos, and thousands of failed attempts for a date or a reunion, I became the friend, the ex lover, the acquaintance they ignore.


It is as if my presence never mattered that they don’t mind me waiting at all. Waiting for their replies, their time, them loving me back.

I am the girl who is always ignored. The girl whose messages are always just seen.

I am the girl who hurts. All the time. But who cares? No one does. And one day, I will be growing tired. And one day, they will be my used to be friends who I will also ignore. Not because I turned bad, but because I will get used to being ignored I could forget they even existed.

Why am I loveless, you say?

It has been three years ago,  going on four, since I last had a relationship. As I approach my late twenties, people question my being single.

I have become an adult and I’d like to believe it will be inevitable, at a certain age, that one will be the subject of queries on marriage during family dinners as I am now.

I have to admit I am private. I did not want anybody knowing about  my relationship and I did not want telling anybody anything.

But for your knowledge. I had a relationship.

Then I got hurt. And it was awful. I was joyless for months and all I had were tears. I lost all the care I had in myself, thinking and feeling I suddenly became purposeless. All because the person who loved me, who was not family, realized he no longer sees the rainbows in my eyes and I was no longer the love he won.

I couldn’t bear seeing him happy with his friends while I was in pain. I experienced a kind of brokenness I have not realized existed. Every song felt like a stab in the chest, every couple on the street felt like an insult to my commitments, everything was him and he was anguish.

I no longer want that. And I don’t want to feel that grief again.

So why am I loveless?

It is not that I hate love. I do wish to find my own someday.  Oh, goodness, and if only you know how much I want that someday to be tonight. But… I was hurt too much to even think of allowing chances lead to that again. I was hurt too much to go back to that again. I. Was. Hurt. I am hurt itself.

I loved too much that I cannot let it go. Not because I want this to stay but because I believe it was real.  And real love stays with you for the rest of your life. I believe that if that has come, it does not always become mutual.

Why am I loveless? I am not. Because I have that still. Maybe the better question is why are you alone in love?

But for the sake of curiosity, and if it could be of a consolation, I am alone in love because I have not moved on. I have accepted loss but have not lost the emotion.

Probably, I have met the one for me, but he will never be ready. And as far as I know what I am feeling now, no one can ever be him.

Why am I alone in love? Because he will never be ready and no one can ever be him.