Unburden. Unload.

I'm not particularly a vengeful person but there was a time, perhaps in my moment of hopelessness and weakness, that I desired to exact the kind of revenge as that of Edmond Dantès in the Alexandre Dumas’ novel “The Count of Monte Cristo”.

Something as calculated, elaborate, cold and vile.

Half year gone

This drizzly afternoon is the best time to write a blog. I’m in bed; with no plans of going anywhere, snacks within reach. I’m nursing a mild headache and neck pain, nothing that an over-the-counter anti-inflammatory drug can’t cure, I hope.

We’re done with half of the year, the longest six months for me and I’m sure for everyone else as well. Most of it was spent indoors in isolation, with every one of us trying very hard not to get sick or lose our minds in the process. There were times I’d find myself in a brink of depression due to stress and worry, but thank goodness I am able to pull myself up before I sink.

Retrograde

It was the lies that hurt the most.

It was when he'd say something when in fact it wasn't true.
It's him omitting the details, not telling me things, and what was really going on.
Like his failure to tell me that he was still seeing her. Or the others.
When he said they have no contact, that they don’t see each other anymore.
He lies about being over his ex when he's not, then proceeds to ask how my day went.