Fucking adult

Wow. It’s been a while since I last blogged. In fact my recent post was just a re-post. (I’m such a horrible blogger.) Truth is I have been very busy with my new job and making my relationships work and sorting out my finances. I have no savings. No anything. And my life continues to be a constant countdown to payday.

Guess this is what it’s like to be an adult. There’s the absence of the panic button a.k.a. the parents to settle your money problems. Being an adult means your folks are there but you choose not to tap them at the slightest nudge of life. It’s not pride. And you will always be their child. You’re just not a kid anymore.

Being adult also means no more yelling or hitting on the face during a fight with your partner (or ex-partner?). Last night, he and I had an adult talk. No, it didn’t include themes like ‘blow jobs’ or ‘anal sex’. Not in that context. Last night was surprisingly refreshing. We talked like two mature individuals in a relationship (although at first I had to pretend to commit suicide just so he’ll speak up). I didn’t cry. He didn’t cry. He said things he never told me before but I cannot say I never saw coming. Things like “we’re missing the spark” and “wala nang kilig.”

Then we agreed to break-up. But we’re still together in one roof. It’s just that we’re not together anymore.

So now, I’m two kinds of broke. But I will manage. After all, I’m a fucking adult.

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