Written on April 23 on the Cebu Pacific plane trip back to Manila. 5:00 PM

My return is eventful. Yesterday, I struggled to keep my emotions steady. I thought was near a major breakdown. Thinking about it right now, miles above ground, I liken my newfound freedom to flight. Today, I received a sign. Inquirer wants writers. I will go for it. Writing is my release. The paper is my outlet. My passion spells therapy. I am content with what I have now and with the things I know I will have soon. It won't take me 3 years anymore. I'll give it one and then I'm off to somewhere else where intentions are purer.

Funny how my singlehood ushered in new people in a snap. My psychic was right. People from my past will resurface. And I am also set to meet new ones. I'm back in the same ball game, but, now, with strength and prudence. Emotions have become taboo. It's that mind that should prevail from now on.

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I ask myself if I ever did love him as I said I did. There are moments when I count reasons why and they all meet in a single statement. "I love him because he loves me." The statement speaks volumes. Was I inlove with him, or was I fascinated with the thought of being in love? His departure does not hurt much. What crushes me more was that he chose to hide my existence and pretend that I'm a non-entity, and that he left me fat (well, the 2nd one is trivia). But I can manage. It's good to think rationally.

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He will be in my heart, but not in the jaded/dazzled sense I had when I was with him.