Then I wonder:
When is this grieving phase going to pass? The guilt of being the culprit with a cheating spouse, and the simultaneous confusion of feelings for this boy, eagerly waiting my full acceptance in the midst of his busy research schedule.
Then I realized, the action is up to me. Executions have to be taken, be it swift and cruel or soft and tiresome.
But Volgograd had left to Russia with his other half.
And I'm leaving home for yet another two semester, separated with Mr.Pangkor by a four hours bus drive.
So, how's that for a year later? What months can do to two concurrent distant relationships?
There's plentiful of room to be emo, as Hypocrite saw me. But I refuse to be a sorrowful alcoholic as I think the phrase "emo" is abused and overrated for petty feelings of sadness like this. It wasn't sadness. It was the triumph of my sexual drive over much needed self control.
Today, best friend Jin told me I need to be a monk after months of prostitution. I couldn't agree less.
"At the very least, prostitution is a profession. A slut does no gain."
* * *
Here's one thought, from this day, last year:
"Yesteryear's Merdeka, I was liberated from Fd. The sweetness of freedom felt so very good even though it was coated in a very thin shellac of regret. It was what I wanted anyway since deep down I can no longer afford emotional torments from his expectations after showers and showers of attention."
Perhaps the true liberation is getting myself untangled from the chains of careless relationships. Don't sniff the others' scent after sex. Don't ask about their lives. Don't disclose how good they are on the bed.
Months of academic work soon might help. I have BL still to settle with and I miss him since I came home. I know I'm greedy, stubborn and hopelessly poly-amorous, but the portions of agony in my divided heart is too good to let go. And there's no space for weakness.
Not even grief.