Coming Clean*

*means bringing up dirt. A lot of it.

***

Easier for me to move on knowing that I've been unkind. Easier, so much easier. Cruelty, I find comforting. Especially when I'm on the giving end.

***

I slept with other men. Three of them.

First time was when you were in the mud fields. I was afraid you'd never come back. I slept with someone who got me pancit malabon, and carefully took the shrimps out.

Second time was with the man from the land of elephants. He made me happy enough to bear the next few weeks with you.

Third time. Remember that Saturday I was at "a friend's condo in Ortigas?" I was in some "room" in Pasig.

And I hated that there was a pack of Chocnut waiting for me, with my name on it, not for sharing. Too little, too late. I hated you too much then. And I knew back then that it was over, all over.

I knew it was over much earlier. It was over when you told me that "you lost the feeling." I just followed suit.

***

This is for the stress that you'll never again have over me leaving my socks.

This is for the self-loathing I will never again have, on my way home, as a night ended with a mechanical kiss from you.

This is to the bad days that we'll never again have.

I will not say sorry. Although you have hurt me enough just by not walking away earlier, neither will I expect apologies from you.

I will not say "Thank you." How can I thank someone who made me lose sight of my beauty?

We deserve so much better. Exponentially better.