Sugar

This morning, I left him alone for a little while, to attend to two too quiet children at a family friend’s pre-school class. And he flipped.

Two hours later, I finally had time to do what I’ve been waiting for all week, to squeeze in as many texts as we could before he goes off to that jungle/beach — only to find that he had went from, “why are you busy” to “why won’t you talk to me” to “who were you talking to that you can’t talk to me” to “i am glad you have found happiness while i’m gone” — all in the span of hours.

And then in that coy way that jealous partners try to fish for information by refusing to request for details, he had gotten me to report my Monday through Friday. It was pure manipulation how he kept saying, “you tell me, i won’t ask”. But I have no fucking idea what I had done. Then all of a sudden, he said he has to go back to work.

And it was my turn to flip. You can’t kick up dust and just leave. Not having closure affects me. Conclusion, endings, completion, whatever you want to call it — they all belong in the same family. All of them elude me, in little little ways, like how every time I start writing a story, I can never end it. Like how every time I begin an academic essay, the conclusion is always ridiculous because I was forced to end it. Like how in a million other ways, I just don’t forget.

So I got really mad at him because it has been a difficult week and all I wanted was our exchange of saccharine texts and I really don’t need a relationship to be so mentally taxing so crazy so jealous so temperamental. And then right before I fell asleep, exhausted, I realized, all those things that I don’t want a relationship to be, are ironically, descriptions of myself.