She said,"go back to sleep". But how could I?

6:05am and I'm driven to the siren alertness of the midst of my parents' quarrels. Two hours of sleep was all they could grant, and my eye bags have never appeared more apparent. The previous night was spent spilling tears over a previous failed relationship which has been chasing after paper dreams for the past two weeks.

All I can tell you, Mummy, is that you have a choice to make (obviously). Two very prominent options: one, to stick by the man you vowed your life and love to, to age together till old and frailing age; two, to divorce this man I am obliged to call Daddy and shovel the past behind and let it go. Mummy, you asked me how I moved on from the hauntings. That's how I did it and am doing it. It really doesn't matter how much you love because everything only begins to matter to the other party after they have realised that "love" has transitioned to "loved". Loss is inevitable, but everyone knows human nature is weak and yielding.

You seeked my honest opinions of the next step you should take and honestly, I have never been in a marriage to be fit enough to advice you, saying "leave him although I am more than agreeable to a divorce". Well, if you really need opinions, I would, if I were you.

The pair I call Parents have placed me here this morning, yet again, as a middle person, vying for my vote to their stands. They have put me in a spot where I'm uncomfortably comfortable. I don't see my silence as consent towards any party to what they are doing.

My impression of Men have never been anywhere near fascinating. If there's anything about the male gender that fascinates me, it's the question as to why do they mature four years younger than their actual age; the question as to why their thinking matter is as small as ability to make sense in a quarrel; the question as to why amazing history makers like Pope John Paul II exists when my very own father owns not a morsel of his maturity and sensibility.

And honestly, I hate you. I hate you so much, I wish you'd end up just like your father, sick and dying in bed, learning his lessons the tough way. Man I call Daddy, you disgust and revolt me. I haven't got the heart to look at you, speak to you, understand you or to even call you Daddy.

See what love does? It fucks you right in the heart and in the head, where it hurts most. Trust yourself to dabble and tackle with love? A marriage isn't a marriage if it fails, a love isn't true if it strays, because true love does not feed on happiness at the partner's miserable expense.

Love is kind, not cruel; love is patient, not aggressive and disgraceful; love is honest and truthful, not manipulative; love is forever, not temporary and short-lived; love is hesitating to hurt; love is being able to stay and love without being asked to; love is automatic and initiative; love can be painful but love should conquer all else; love is practical yet out of the world; love does not die even if wrinkles start to infest your hands, feet and face; love braves all circumstances (Aaron was right about this); love is sparing a thought for your daughter before quarrelling in the wee hours of the morning and making her the middle person of the mess you created, knowing she has tests the following day; love is stroking her face and telling her she's beautiful, and that you love her even though her eye bags are killing her vibrance and radiance; love is never considering suicide and self-afflict because you know it would devastate loved ones; love is benovalent and sacrificing; love is finding burnt food delicious, only because she took time and effort to make it for you; love is washing her clothes and underwear; love is continuing to love even though she ran into another's arms; love is wanting her to be happy with a new found love even if it's as painful as separating a snail from its shell; love is buying Pastamania over to her studios while she's bustling with projects; love is wishing her happiness even if you have to be without her; love is quitting when she doesn't like smokers; love is not publishing your agonies; love is silent with words and loud with actions; love is shown not told; love does not build on sex; love is not lustful; love is pure; love is sacred; love is for eternity; love is accepting her as a Catholic even though you're a staunch Taoist and hate the Catholic religion; love is serving her the dishes during dinner when they're too far for her to reach; love is breaking the truth to her that she is fat so that she will gradually learn to alter her physical imperfections; love is promising her you'll never leave even in the midst of weighing debts; love is buying herbal tea for her when she has a sore throat; love is making a gingerbread man with M&M-decorated eyes for her just to bring a smile to her face; love is being happy looking after her when she's drunk and vomitting incessantly and blabbering in tears all night; love is telling her she smells wonderful when she has green tea in her hair; love is hugging her after a sweaty game; love is accepting her scoldings when you did wrong; love is saying sorry and showing that you're sorry after making a mistake; love is buying her a new shoe after her heels have broken; love is scrimping and saving up to get her things she ogled at during window shopping; love is picking her up from school; love is picking her up from work; love is not shameful; love is taking her to the nearest clinic the moment she is unwell; love is staying by her when arthritis sores her bones; love is saving up for a future for two; love is making plans; love is when you name your children with one another. That's love in words from me to you.