I am back. Took me long before I decided to write again.
The whirlwind that was last year and this year got me caught up in a dozen of things, hence I was unable to write.
My dad died last year. I wasn’t able to take much care of him, because it was the middle of my medical internship. I only got home during the lockdown and then he died two weeks after my siblings and I returned home.
Nov 2020 PLE. Started reviewing in May, real review started in June, a few weeks after, medical boards was postponed for 2 months. This got me off track. Had difficulty getting back to the grind of reviewing. Self - review was never an easy thing. It’s definitely not for everyone. Kudos to those who gave it their all and passed, no judgment to those who didn’t. Finally got that MD at the end of my name now :)
I went through Pre - residency twice. Had a day of orientation and 3 days of preresidency at my hometown’s public hospital. I never had a doubt about the specialization I chose, but had to brood and realize that the place was not for me. My heart was somewhere else. Tried applying at a military hospital and got in. Now I’m up for military training, which I am superbly excited about.
Looking forward to my journey as a resident, a military doctor and an otorhinolaryngologist, can’t wait to share it with you.
“Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.”
I thought I was ready for love, yet here I am tired, and too frustrated to say I love you. I hoped loving you would be easy, given that I waited years for God to let me find you. I thought in the years he let me wait, he was preparing me for you - so that when the magic happens, falling and staying in love would be a piece of cake.
I thought I was ready for commitments, in giving my time, and maybe my life for someone like you. Regret lingers every now and then, because I give it a hundred percent and each night I break a little. A little every day until insidiously, a big piece is shattered.
I finally realize this is difficult. Its about tears and trying to hold on, and trying to move on past the heartache. The most difficult thing being, the decision to choose you over and over and over again despite all the bad and the good and the great and the hurt that happen in between.
As I move past the tears, its faith, hard work, forgiveness and love that do the work. But its that undeniable and wicked thing called love that keeps me.
Sometimes I think the only thing between us that works is light conversation and sex. You’re much too hot-tempered and I’m far too emotionally repressed. If we go too deep you become angry and I fall apart. Tonight—tonight, Christ—we talked. We draped ourselves across the couch and across each other for a while. You sat up. You pushed up against me. You carried me to the bedroom and we could barely undress each other for the incessant desperation of our kisses.
Hours passed. I stared at you, and you stared back. We smiled in the dark. The way we talk during sex, the way your words resonate with comfort and I’m completely at peace, it’s extraordinary. I love the way you collapse onto me, breathless. I love the way you hold my body after. I love the way you smile at me with your eyes closed as I kiss you over and over again. I know you’re afraid of not being enough for me but I will never get enough of you.
—strawberries (excerpt #196) from “Whatever’s in Texas”
That's the problem with love - even after all those years of brokenness and fitting back working pieces together, the moment 'I still love you' is uttered in whatever iteration (I never stopped, it's always been you, no one comes close) you know you'll start doubting again. And hoping. Hope. God I hate that word. It's the most betraying word. The most insidious of all sentiments. It let's you believe. It let's you think a spark exists even when it's just been ashes from the start and you were gullible enough, hopeful enough, to keep lighting and fanning nonexistent flames. It's not just love. Hope is every where and haunts all other wishes and dreams. Love's just the most volatile, the most easily manipulated variable by hope.
- not bitter, just heavily guarded since
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