open letter.

Borrowing a line from that Sinead O'Connor song, "it's been 7 hours and 15 days, since you took your love away". At this.exact.moment.

Life's been chugging along like the little engine that could. I laugh with friends, throwing jokes out with the same timing that I had before. Apparently, humor has kept me sane and distracted because honestly, I'm not yet up to thinking about what happened to our relationship.

This is not to say I haven't shed any tears. I have and there have been plenty. While I'm productive during office hours, it's the mornings and the late nights that are giving me problems. I find no need real reason to get up in the morning and at night, I fear that if I sleep, I may never wake up.

The three-day mourning period my mother gave me has already expired, obviously. She said it's non-moveable, but I'm going to use it anyway whenever I feel like it. If there's one good thing this breakup has done, it's that I found a renewed respect for my family and friends. None of them are hurrying this healing process and none of them have brushed off my tears and rants as immaturity or nonsensical, no matter how repetitive they may be.

Of course, I have to deal with the obvious repercussions of welcoming you into our lives: everything has suddenly transformed from objects of love into reminders of love lost. You have infiltrated all my photo albums since 2007, every corner of the quarters and of our Baguio home, every techie- and car-related topic, and everything even remotely related to any of my experiences in the past 3 years. Why? Because I allowed you to be with me through it all. The thing about shared experiences is, well, you can't "un-share" them. Moving on from a relationship of this scale is fracking hard.

I know I should be more concerned about self-preservation and moving on. However, a little voice inside me is nagging me about the possibility of leeches creeping around you trying to get a taste of what they never had before, of vultures circling my head even before I'm dead, and of assholes who will attempt to take you to the dark side. It is my wish, and my prayer, that you do the right thing and stay away from these kinds of people -- lest you turn into a douchebag or a manwhore.

Do you remember how I always have new songs for you to listen to? I've removed "Happy Heart" from my iPod – you know, the one that contained all your favorite songs, from Babe, to Nothing's Gonna Stop Us, to Iris. I've already set-up a "Heartbreak" playlist on my iTunes and the song count is growing. I just can't believe I'm back to singing these again. With the help of suggestions and dedications from friends, the playlist evokes different shades of negative emotions:

… fear of being forever broken (Bent)
… despair (Big Blue Sea)
… unfair (Breakeven, Hiling, I Hate This Part, Oo)
… denial (It's Not Over, The Man Who Can't Be Moved, Over My Head)
… aversion (Halaga, Huwag na Huwag Nang Magbabalik, I Don't Want to Be Your Friend, I Love You Goodbye)
… and, of course, hope that sooner or later, I'll get over this whole thing (Heal Over, Tattoo).

I have only recently added "hate and good riddance" to my list, with songs like Irreplaceable, Survivor, and Gone in September – in an attempt to move on.

This is my playlist. What's yours?
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I'm playing the "heartbroken" card to explain the lack of coherence. Excuse me.