If I could travel across the world, the secrets I would tell.

Something extraordinary happened today. My mother finally began acting like a mother towards me again.

During the car ride home, she asked me how he-who-will-remain-anonymous and I were doing. I don't know if her words were out of curiosity or empathy, but the sentiment of her gesture meant a lot to me - even if she did take part in the break up. I think she was trying to comfort me - something she hasn't done in years.

"He only said that to you because he cares," she says. "She's probably just temporary. Maybe he's waiting for you. Maybe he'll come back to you when you're more mature and graduated from university because you're still young. You can never forget your first love. I know you still care about him. Pick up the phone when he calls, it's okay to talk to him. After all, since he's calling you, it means he wants to talk to you."

CLICK: Another Unkept Secret
That's not what she was saying 6 months ago. She's humming a different tune. Maybe she's finally starting to learn how much I care about him, but it's too little too late because it doesn't matter anymore.

As for the "You never forget your first love" deal, I wouldn't hold my breath and call what we had love. It's the rose that did not bloom because it's died before it could.


Although she was trying to instill some kind of hope in me, it was a fail. All hope vanished on Thursday April 24, 2009.

It could have been because we were actually having one of those "mother-daughter" moments I thought she wasn't capable of. It could have been because there's a fragment of me that still misses him. It could have been both. Whatever the reason, I began to cry in front of her. I let my guard down. And for the first time in a while, I felt human again.

Nowhere else to go, but I'm so scared to stay.

I find that mending a broken heart is similar to healing the hand on which you've received stitches after a drunk night out with your friends. Let me tell you how...

Your hand hurts like a bitch. Even the simple action of making a fist causes pain, but you know that the pain is something you must endure if you want to get the strength back in your muscles. Close. Pain. Open. Pain. You persevere and the pain becomes almost like second nature. You begin not to feel it until one day, even though your hand is still healing, it's able to function as if the cut and five stitches aren't even there.

Your heart hurts like a bitch. Even the simple action of seeing him again (or even hearing his voice over the phone) causes pain, but you know that the pain is something you must endure if you want to love again. No communication. Pain. Random phone call. Pain. You persevere and the pain becomes almost like second nature. You begin not to feel it until one day, even though your heart is scarred, it's able to love as if it had never been broken.