Love.Sick.

Though I don't understand any bit of Thai, this song is a sure feel-good song, especially for the love sick.

I've been meaning to write here for the past days. Actually, my drafts have been increasing lately, yet not progressing. Mostly it's about Jjampong. Err- okaaaay, nothing new about that.

I've been sick, for quite a long while now... and chatting with your ex-beau in PR doesn't help either. 

Yes, I've been chatting with my ex-boyfriend in PR, or at least I'd like to believe is him. My PR account doesn't reveal any portrait of mine, but mostly of places I frequent to, or parts of my body. Then a few months ago, I came across a profile, which seemed awfully familiar.

From the user ID, which resonate his previous account, to the eye-catching (makalaglag-panga, or panty, whichever you prefer) profile photo - a nude self-portrait taken through a mirror, with the phone serving as a mask, and his other hand cupping his privates. The body itself, well, it's not really jaw-dropping gorgeous - he's smooth, shaved, and flawless. Hmm, flawless? - Wrong. The hand holding the phone was what actually caught my attention. For almost two years of holding those hands, how could I not recognized that flawed 3rd digit, which bear a childhood history.

At first, I thought I was merely imagining things. The photo wasn't of genius quality that I could zoom in and analyze better the minute features of that finger. The profile text was even, very similar to his old one before we started dating. "Only for [that matter]" was initially why we met 3 years ago. To be honest, it was a bit unexpected for him to be back in the blue planet knowing he's already dating and committed ever since we parted ways. "Could it be, they're already separated?". No, there was not a glimmer of hope at that time. Or so I thought.

So, the curious cat (or the dubious dog rather) in me couldn't help but chat him up. Initiating casual, chat, a bit naughty and kinky, trying to fish out details that would nail his identity. This went on for months, and to be honest I found some bittersweet comfort in it. It was somehow nostalgic... I was thrown back more than 5 years ago, back when we started chatting.

In case I haven't said it this blog, Jjampong and I first crossed fates 6 years ago (2010), when I first dropped a message in his PR account for his fetish for a particular garment. From there, we had this once-in-a-blue-moon chat, eventually trading digits, then again, the seasonal text messages or phone calls. The progress, if there's really any, coursed for the next 3 slow years, when I finally decided to meet him up for his sole purpose of being in PR. And so it was on the cold eve of the 13th of February 2013 that we first came (no pun intended, really. Not really.) face to face in a then fresh mall in New Manila. A simple pick up, literally. He simply drove by and I got in the darkly tinted tataycar. Sounds slutty eh? Well, that was what it was, a booty call. Anyway, from there everything was, so to speak, history.

Going back to that particular garment, it's quite an identifier relating his past PR ID to his present - well, assuming that this mystery guy is indeed him. His physical features, resemble Jjampong's chinito tight bod; and the way he talks/writes, sound oddly familiar. But the details that he's been sharing, were quite- for the lack of a more precise word - perplexing?

Sadly, if this mystery chatter was indeed Jjampong, I'm not even a speck of his past. Apparently I never existed in his life. This mystery chatter, doesn't even show any sign that is somehow of being reminded of his ex. It's either that he doesn't really recognized me, or is so damn good pretending not to recognize me.

Putting in to consideration merely the objective findings, the details were not so diagnostic of Jjampong identity, therefore inconclusive. But my gut churns and squeals, "IT HAS TO BE YOU!!!" I shared about this chatting-with-the-ex dilemma with a friend and she said perhaps I'm only projecting Jjampong in to this mystery chatter, and in doing so, will only result to dire consequences. Most like she's right.  But why would I do that - what's the point of projecting or even trying to reach out to him?

...

Do you really have to ask yourself that Victor? You know why.

You've heard yourself whispering it to the winds, in the hopes it'll reach him. You've been muttering it to sleep, as if a bedtime lullaby. You've daydreamed about the day your paths would cross again, and how you'd go all gallant and knightly of sweeping him off his feet, or either taking him down by force. How many times have you sneaked a peek to his old photos, trying to imagine how much has he changed since you last saw him in the flesh.

...

No matter how much you try to conceal it, it will inevitably seep in to your thoughts, leaking out through your words. For everything that appeals to your senses, you will be betrayed for it's Him you see, hear, smell, feel, and even taste. The sheer sensations brought about by Him gives you malaise and puts you listless.

*siiiiigh...*

Deep inside, it's You. My heart is still yours. No matter how much you break it, and shatter it into pieces, every bit is still yours. Will ever be, yours. We did had a forever, until you dropped out. The only thing that I regret is the day I let you leave without putting up a to-the-last-straw damn fight.

*sigh...*

Plans of therapy: *Playing that song again*

There. Somehow it calms me. But it is only for temporary relief. A more definitive warranted course of treatment is - ... hmm...- still under research. No proven cure exists as of this day. For now, palliative care would be most appropriate. 

Prognosis: indefinite melancholia.

Anyway, you guys enjoy the music. Also, you'd enjoy watching that Thai series. 

Oh, Don't mind me. I may be sick and all, but as always, I can take care of myself.

*sigh...*