Hey there,
Whatever benign souls who still read my blog.
In the one year that I've stayed off this platform,
A lot has happened.
I became a freelance actress, I did modelling, English tuition at 2 centres, worked myself to death, found fulfillment in that, and was happy for a while.
I continued struggling with having no friends and social anxiety- shaking in public transport and having extreme diarrhea before meeting people.
Somehow, it was the best part of the year back then. It was simple, filled with hopes and dreams and passion- and a very poignant wish from a lonely and starved soul (that which is me).
I only ever wanted to change for the better; find happiness, and lead a balanced life.
Then, I met someone.
He was everything I've always looked for in someone- or appeared so, anyway.
He seemed kind. Eloquent. Mature, loving, compassionate, highly intelligent, ambitious, passionate about what he was doing, and confident.
I went to a university too; the top one here- didn't really expect that, but that's for another day. Too much has happened, dear reader. Too much that even I am disinterested in going into details, because it's been such an eventful year.
.
We met at an audition for a film he wrote and was directing; a romance sci-fi film about parallel universes and the kind of romantic stuffs that makes you think a guy decent for creating it.
I told myself, before I met him-
that love was a secondary, optional thing. Work, friendship, and dreams and family is were life's essence was at.
But when you finally meet someone so completely your type,
You throw all that out the window.
I decided- that love was here, that I wasn't gonna throw it away just because I was too blind to see it for how precious a thing it was.
.
We met on his birthday.
It was a 6 day shoot, with us both falling for the other because of our work selves; because of how we both seemed so seamless and like the perfect partner for the other.
We dated for 6 weeks.
Learnt a lot about myself; can't say the same about him.
For the first time in a long while, I opened up to someone- and I loved the way he expressed himself, loved the way he seemed like the only decent person I'd met thus far (for there were many shady people I met on my many jobs; went on a weird first date, was sexually harrassed via text by another guy... ahhh. I've got stories now; stories I would otherwise not have had, had I not ventured out of my teeny tiny world and chosen to stop shaking in my room and actually go out there, and *do* something for myself.)
But back to the story.
We got together 2 days after my birthday, made it an official relationship-
And from there, the story began for real.
At the beginning, all was smooth sailing (as they always go)
Then, the guilt-trips came. Whenever I wanted alone time, or to go out for jobs, he would agree- then return to tell me, a few days later, that he'd been very sad and didn't feel my presence.
I would cry and feel guilt, then tell myself to give him more attention and love- For is that not what lovers do?
Then, the fights came. The first time it happened, we were talking about having kids. I told him I didn't really want any, because I was afraid of the guy dumping it all on me, based on gender roles. I was afraid of being tied down as a housewife when I still had my dreams, then thrown aside by the man of the house who brings home the bread, then forgotten and detested for being overly familiar.
But with him I was hopeful, because he made it sound so, so hopeful.
He told me he had chosen me for his life, for we were each other's first loves.
He told me he would propose after I graduated from university; he told me he wanted children together.
Before the first fight, he went on a tangent about how he had always wanted kids at a young age; but after what I'd told him it felt like he was indirectly trying to convince me of the same idea- because he kept going on and on about it. I then said something along the lines of "I understand where you're coming from, and I don't mean to disrespect that, but just putting it out there... I don't want kids till my career has stabilised at least, in my thirties."
And then it went from a loving discussion to him repeating himself, then me carefully pushing it away, and before I knew it- we were arguing.
It ended with him telling me I jumped to the wrong conclusions about him trying to change my mind; saying things like "If you think of me as such a malicious man trying to manipulate and convince you, you're wrong."
I apologised, and moved on.
Subsequent fights occurred, and I see them only as what they are now because I have broken up-
Things escalated to become such that there was always a pattern. I would say something that was neutral and careful to me,
and he would tell me it's wrong, or stupid. When fights got bad, he told me to shut up and listen. When I stated my piece, he picked on the words I used and argued about how the definition wasn't the negative connotations... blamed me for my negative inferences and kept telling me I was "reacting"; a term I now objectively see as him using my social anxiety against me.
When I told him how I felt, he would tell me it was wrong, that I "shouldn't feel that way". Whenever I brought up something, he would justify himself about the intentions and the word choices and inferences, bringing up fifteen points and telling me off when I interrupted; again telling me to shut up- and when he was finally done, there was no way I could address all the points without forgetting what the purpose of the discussion was in the first place.
I started having anxiety attacks.
When it happened, I couldn't breathe, I felt helpless and lost, and my mind wasn't my own.
There was so much guilt and self-blame, and I always felt small with him, for he was always telling me "you're smart enough to figure out what you did wrong. I don't need to tell you."
I kept asking him what I was doing wrong, because he kept telling me he felt lonely and unloved in this relationship, that it was caused by his depression and suicidal thoughts, that he didn't have a capacity to feel loved.
he would tell me that I was doing more than enough, but that he felt bad nonetheless. I would return from jobs during the weekends, and he would tell me how he pushes away jobs for me, but didn't tell me, that I "should have the sense to know", that he was crashing and have really bad episodes of depression when I wasn't around, that he couldnt tell me because he did not want to worry me.
I started overthinking everything, more so than I ever did. When I got snappy replies via text, I kept asking and asking him if he was fine. At one point I was out, doing social salsa dancing with friends and being really happy, but his crude replies made me wary-
and calling him and texting repeatedly- I finally found out that he was going through a bad night, and had jumped from the second floor of the building, tried to jump from the third but didn't because he was too scared.
I got so terrified I straight left the group of friends and cabbed over to his place, where he told me he saw how happy I was, dancing with other people, that he was in pain because he could never be as happy as I was.
I remember how much love I felt for him then, how much pressure I was under trying to be the source of support- because I never wanted to be the girlfriend that left because of his depression.
Brushing off my wishes at having a happy night away from him for once (for we met really, really, often, almost every other day- and when we weren't together, we were texting, or facetiming, or calling), I told myself to be understanding and supportive.
I started thinking about what else I could do, what else I could give him, to make his bad nights easier, to make him feel more special.
I made a car from scratch, with cardboard and intense taping and paint. I made a door that could be opened; made another cardboard thingy in there that I hung our pictures from, painting the background a bright blue with sparkles and stars. I printed out pictures from past dates and numbered them, writing out a parody version of our love story in parts- so that with every picture, was a part of how we met.
I folded 5 hearts, and poured my heart into one of the heart cards.
Then, when he was doing his final year project, I woke up early and baked a bunch of pecan sticky buns, cranberry walnut bread, and a huge omelette. It was meant to be a surprise breakfast for his team, at Coney Island (which is a secluded island area here in Singapore)
There was heavy rain whe I got there, and the team was sitting directly under heavy rain, equipment covered in plastic, entire team shivering and waiting for the rain to end before they could continue shooting.
I joined my ex then, sat beside him for two hours waiting for the rain to stop. it didn't, not really, so i merely got drenched being by my ex's side. Still, when he asked me to feed him one of the sticky buns, when we were both shivering under the rain, I felt-
Genuinely happy.
It was the sort of happiness that comes from giving, the kind that comes from seeing someone you love, smile.
We were left alone for a while when the team sought out shelter, and my ex- being the stubborn director that he was, chose to stay behind to look at the equipment, for fear that they would fall in the rain.
It was completely unnecessary by objective standards, but expected by his perfectionist professional ones.
I didn't cab back because of the cost, but ended up getting a flu and skipped salsa that night.
Still, as I shivered with a slight fever in my bed-
I couldn't help smiling.
It was an addictive sort of sweetness,
because I don't think I've felt so safe from his aggression in fights before.
I would later, during the breakup, tell my ex that the only times I felt completely safe and happy was when I'd done an over the top surprise, and knew that he couldn't get mad because of the novelty of the surprise, or when we were getting physical and we were kissing.
Those were the times where I knew I was covered in warmth, and he wouldnt have a sudden mood swing and completely flip at one "wrong thing I said".
A few days later, the novelty had worn off, and we were having arguments again.
I had lost my voice completely from a throat infection, lost 2 hosting jobs due to that (For currently, I am also trying to become a part time host, amidst my other commitments)
And I just remember holding his hands and telling him I needed a lot of warmth and patience, because I get triggered by conflict and huge crowds and loud noises sometimes, and that I have attacks which makes me less functional than the usual person, that I don't want to keep having extended fights where I can apologise but not be let off for that one. wrong. thing. i said...
That I was trying my best to get over this, that I will try my best to communicate with him during fights, and not have those attacks as an excuse-
and to that he asked, "What're you telling me all this for?".
It was so hurtful that I didn't know what to say, so i simply said, " I don't want to seem like a burden", to which he said, "No, you're not a burden". And that was that.
Many, many other things, things I cannot fully explain here.
But I was under a lot of stress, constantly feeling guilty, and hurt by his words in fights, hurt by the way he would get so agitated he would yell at me, then tell me it was because I yelled at him first, hurt by how I kept having attacks because I was too afraid, not of conflict itself, but of his reactions, his words, the way he doesn't let me off even after an apology for something I didn't agree with, but yet still apologised for-
Afraid of his anger and how he would walk off in the middle of a fight to punch a wall, or hit his head, or scratch himself aggressively, before he came back to continue arguing with me.
I remember thinking about how it was at least a good thing that he wasn't hitting me...
But now that I'm away from him I finally see that it was how he made me *feel*.
I was constantly filled with thoughts of his sadness and anger, and how I could relieve that. I wqas addicted to the feeling of being loved after I planned surprises; so on a night I knew he would be back late- I cleaned his room up, pasted glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, and put sparkly Christmas lights and a Christmas tree in his room. I decorated little portions with golden piping, used cider bottles I saved up, made his bed, and wrote a little card.
That night, I felt treasured and happy and safe.
The next afternoon, the novelty had begun wearing off-
His depression was kicking in, and I was trying to be understanding.
The day after that, we fought because of one wrong thing I did, made up, made out, then had another huge fight because of another thing I said wrongly.
He even got so angry he refused to go out to dinner with me even though I was leaving directly after for a family trip overseas.
In that moment, the stress and feelings of loneliness, like I wasnt treasured enough- because he valued winning the fights so much, and failed to control his neediness and feeling so much, that it became a huge burden to me...
All that, accumulated over the 8 months, inclusive of the dating period- came crashing down on me,
And i went off to the family trip completely burnt out and broken.
In the 2 days that I was away I kept sending him selfies and messages, refusing to use being overseas as an excuse for being an irresponsible and unloving girlfriend, but I kept getting snappy replies.I held onto my phone, naked and waiting for the bath to fill up, telling him I was sorry for not having responded in a way previously that made him feel understood, telling him I would be there if he needed me, that I would be waiting for his replies.
I got snappy, one word replies. When I returned, it occurred to me thar this ws never what a relationship should have been, that I had dedicated myself to someone who didnt love me enough to treasure our time together...
And I met hm trying to give a second chance by telling him my feelings, what I hoped for to change, and to ask for a two weeks break before we started anew.
But he interrupted me when I was telling im my feelings, choosing to walk away. I made him stay by saying things like "I came here to work things out. and you're just leaving because you're hearing thing you don't wanna hear? once you leave, this is over. Stay if you still want to work this out, if you truly love me as you say you do."
He stayed, but didnt even apologise.
I then left, and he told me to stay and "wait and listen to my silence".
I stayed, and waited. Then left.
The summary of what happened next was he called me again later that day, asking to meet again to "confirm that we broke up"; then got into a fight again, then had the ultimatum "yknow what, let's fucking break up", before texting me again at night to tell me how unfair it was for him that I had set convictions and wasn't listening to his side, that I had no love in me anymore, that he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue this, now that i have brought up a break up.
Long story short, he kept trying to call me- but I refused to pick up, knowing the effect of his words and how much guilt I would be in if I took that call. I had done what I could; met him twice and it was concluded. I didn't owe him anything anymore.
That happened on Christmas.
The day after, I received an apology text, saying that he doesn't want to lose me due to his pride. I rejected him, telling him its too late, that his true self was what I saw on Christmas...
but that night he camped beneath my block, and on my way home I had no choice but to talk to him in person.
He apologised, and promised to make changes.
Still lovestruck, and willing to work things out, but wary, wary now of how blind I could be around him, I said I would consider away from him.
The moment I left,I knew this was not the same guy who called me names in fights, who called me child and a bitch and insisted that he was right for saying that, then trying to justify that it was what I said that was bitchy, not me itself.... bla bla.
The change was too drastic; people don't change overnight, and that was mere talk. And talk is cheap.
So, I rejected him.
Summary is he came and stayed beneath my block every night for the next 4 days, refusing to cab home even with the money I gave him- crying and pleading for a second chance. Day 3 I went down to meet him for his closure, returning him his books and shirts and money, stuffing him 20 bucks and telling him to go back home because I was still very in love and wanted to give a second chance... just not right now.
Did I mention that I told him to come back to me again, a few months or years in the future, when he has become a balanced and better person, because feelings dont change that easily, much as people don't?
However, the sight of him crying completely broke me, and after rejecting him countless times, and having him sob really hard and keep pulling me back physically into his arms, I agreed to be with him.
The next morning I woke up panicking- I knew I had made the wrong choice, out of love, softness of heart, or pure weakness.
Because I had been sleeping at 5/6am daily for the past 2 weeks, after falling sick from pushing myself too hard for the surprises.
So I apologised for having softness of heart, then rejected him again.
He refused, choosing to come beneath my block and sending me crying voice messages and pleads and calling me over and over. Day 4 I refused to go down, but I picked up his call- and again couldn't hang up when he kept pleading.
Eventually after an hour, I was completely broken, so I hung up. And didn't pick up his calls afterward. I did, however, stay up with him and listen to every voice message because I still couldn't bear the thought of him shivering and crying beneath my block, alone.
The next day he planned to come down again, with flowers.
And all my heartbreak turned to rage, because when we were together I stayed over often at his place- never really slept well because of insomnia in a foreign place, his loud snoring, and the lack of comfort in general- had to travel 2 hrs to and 2hrs fro when I was rushing from school to his place, and back- just so I could balance everything.
The truth was I wasn't meeting friends at all (though I finally met good people in university, like I've always wanted) and I was always working, or at school, or with him.
I went for an entire month without heading home once.
And during this period, I would ask to watch a movie together, and he would say that he wanted to watch separate movies, because he;s "picky". I compromised and watched his movies with him because I wanted so much to be with him, but that feeling of love was never reciprocated.
Sure he did good things like calm me down during anxiety attacks, but when I was healthy and well- I didn't feel loved. When he was in a bad mood, I felt like I was dating someone irritable and toxic. And I was constantly in fear of his reactions to words I didn't even know were wrong.
I could bring up how unhappy I felt, but somehow in the fights that ensued he would confuse me with those words, words, words-
and I would end up apologizing for having wrong inferences that I didn't know were wrong.
And when I was angry I told him that flowers aren't the solution because when we were together- he didn't treasure me. And I was profoundly lonely and unhappy.
I didn't tell people what was going on until it was too late and I was breaking down in my room, panicking and crying in front of my brother.
I held it all in, kept giving chances, till it was too late.
I told him to stop, because otherwise I would block him.
He didn't, so I blocked him on Whatsapp- then, on New Year's Eve he sms-ed me and asked to meet again.
Since then I have blocked him on every platform available,
so he doesn't know from my instastories, the things that I've been up to.
But I can see his...
and he lugs around the little Stitch plushie I got him, taking pictures with it wherever he goes.
I still miss him.
Irreverently so, stupidly so.
But I know that he is a douche and an idiot from the things he used to say-
the cringey stuffs he used to whisper into my ear, like "I wanna impregnate you", and uh... so on.
He will probably go around telling people that he loved me, but didn't know how to express it, and that he tried his best at putting me above himself.
But no, if he really did-
he wouldn't have tried to win the arguments for the sake of it, because the fights were always just, for him. Even him stalking me beneath my block and keeping me awake till 6am. It was all to make him feel better, at the expense of my feelings.
He never did have the maturity or control over his own emotions and decisions, and he victimises himself.
I fell in love, fell too deep...
And I couldn't see.
Not until it broke me inside out, anyway.
I still have the pens I got him, which he forgot to bring with him. I still have the online surprise I ordered for him and spent 90 bucks on, which hasn't arrived yet and is most likely a scam.
I still have the 2 bags of candy I got on my family trip, because all I could think about was him.
Yes, I fell in love.
At age 19 I fell deeply, carelessly,
And again I kept up my trend of bad first experiences and picked me a guy with too much baggage and too little strength and maturity...
I fell in love,
And I loved him more than I loved myself.
Walking away from the toxic relationship was a wise decision,
but I can't help but miss someone I shouldn't miss.
And amidst all that, I am both enraged and heartbroken,
and I wish for him to suffer the same heartache I felt
but I also
wish for him to be happy.
First love...
I just wish I'd picked the right person.
I wish I hadn't gone for someone who goaded me with his words, who didn't followup with action, who victimised himself both during and after the relationship, and gave me great grief.
I wish I'd stayed single, focused on my dreams...
I wish I wasnt so full of optimism and love that I kept slogging away at rotten wood, trying to build it into a wholesome house.
I wish I didn't give him so much room and power to break me.
I wish I hadn't fallen in love and become the fool for his happiness;
But midst all this- I don't regret it.
Because from the way he is, I was the only person to get that close- to see all that about him- and I would never have found out had I stayed a friend.
At least I gave it everything I could.
And yes I'm broken, but I'm no longer hollow.
I have friends now. Hopes, dreams.
I have dance, hosting, acting, english tuition, modelling, my hobbies of painting, my hopes at becoming a psychologist, my actions at trying to pick up Japanese and possibly, baking.
I have my family, I have- Me.
I'll find a way out,
because when I was all alone, I built a new life from scratch-
And I can,
Now. Again,
Build another life from scratch, without him,
The way I always envisioned it to be,
The way I was well on my path to being before I met him.
I'll be staying away from love before I find myself enough to be able to say 'No' to someone and not feel guilty, treasure myself enough to get angry when someone yells at me to shut up, and balanced enough to not throw away all my time that was meant for my dreams and hopes at having people in my life- on one solitary person who only kept wanting more.
I will grow, and become a better person.
Yes my first love was anything *but* the light-hearted, shallow puppy love that everyone told me about,
But hey.
I am scarred and I am sad,
But I won't be bitter.
Not again,
Not when I once threw my life into the shithole because of that.
Perhaps trust will still be hard for people to earn when it comes to me, but..
Oh well.
We all climb to higher heights one day.
And since I've only been meeting shitty people, mostly..
It can only go uphill from here.
And lastly..
I am so so so glad we didn't have sex.
I am so glad to have listened to my gut when I didnt feel emotionally secure enough to invest in a guy to the point to throwing in the last of my emotional strength.
I don't think I would have emerged broken but still somewhat whole,
had I done that.
Call it Asian, or traditional if you will-
To me its more about feeling emotionally safe enough that you know you can love without hesitation.
