I felt like we had a nice Saturday together. We went out earlier than usual, we had a nice time like nothing was wrong, watched Paul and laughed, and when we both got home he texted me about this again. This, this deepening cavity between us, the spaces and the distances, the words unsaid, the feelings of neglect and dispassion and dissatisfaction left unarticulated.
I don't know what went wrong. I don't know if he's right, that I'm losing interest; I thought things were simply getting comfortable. Maybe I took him and us for granted along the way. Maybe I've been too caught up in my work situation and the all-important question of what to do with my life. Maybe I've simply forgotten him.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know how we ended up here, desperately hoping, hoping, holding on to our dispassionate love that's lost its lustre.
I wanted this entry to be happier and, I suppose, more uplifting, but I'm just feeling a bit too sad now for that. I can't fake enthusiasm if I'm not feeling it at the moment.
I think I'm experiencing the lowest point in my life this year right now. I finally decided to leave the firm for good, which should bring me some form of relief and optimism; but all I'm feeling is confusion and the same sense that I messed up my life by not sticking to what I knew and the one thing that I've always wanted (I wanted nothing else; I still want nothing else). It feels like it's too late to turn back, that I've wandered too far off the right path, and I don't know what to do about my life, my relationship, I don't know how to salvage this, anything, all I can try to control these days is something as frivolous and unimportant and innocent as my goddamn tennis.
I just wish - I just hope that he's still the same boy that bought a Lana cake for me before I started pupillage because he knew how much I was dreading it; the same boy that came over to my house in the pouring rain when I was severely PMSing one afternoon for the simple reason that I needed him; the same boy who had his arm around my waist as we stood on Changi beach looking up at the velvety night sky, sproradically pinpricked with stars, as he told me about astrology and the universe; above all else, I hope that he's still the same boy who loves me for all that I am, my flaws and imperfections, because he's the best I've ever had.
I just don't remember what it used to be. With all this negativity and tears and fucking sadness, I see now that the calmness on the surface was only brewing a tsunami beneath it. It's hard to imagine that things were better between us when we were fighting every week. At least we bothered to fight back then.
I hate this, all of this, I just want to wake up tomorrow to a world where everything is okay and fantastic and I never have to cry about anything, or anyone, ever again.
I don't know what I'm writing about anymore. I sure hope that something extraordinary happens during the next month because the thought of losing him at the end of it is absolutely killing me right now.
(I don't want to talk about anything. I just want to watch Gossip Girl/French Open tonight and not think about him, this, whatever, I just want to escape and pretend that nothing is wrong.)