What happened on the 20th of September two years ago was some random event of lesser cosmic significance.
It was your birthday, and was the first time I actually had the courage to take steps to know you more. It was your birthday and you said you wanted to start from scratch. After some puppy heartbreaks, you said at 19, you ought to be mature. No more hesitations, no more wasted time waiting and expecting for things not meant to be. You said you were up to actually fight for what you want.
The day after, it was your turn to greet me. I though it was some divine shit to actually have our birthdays follow each other. I just turned 18 and god knows how cheesy those exchange of text messages were.
I told you I wanted to scrap some part of the cynic in me. You told me I can start by opening myself more to someone I would really want to be with. I did. And by starting to take you seriously, I thought it was one step towards becoming more trusting .
It was an almost genesis. But it turned out you can't actually leave things behind and start without making the past justified or resolved. You told me the kid in you was still too playful. I was frank when I admitted I still have problems with commitments.
But yes, in my part, it turned out to be a beginning of what seemed to be the longest torture from waiting, hoping and wishing.
I don't think I would greet you, and I bet you'll greet me only out of decency. But nevertheless, happy birthday and let's hope this thing will end soon.
(This entry, because I can't really tell people the reason behind why I hated celebrations, in this case, birthdays)(Pero actually, gusto ko lang talagang magdrama kasi 20 na ako. Pota.)
"Bakit wala ka pang girlfriend?"
That is the question I dreaded most when I meet new people, okay, girls. If there's one thing left untouched by the law school stress and boredom in this life, that is my social life. I still manage to go out every week, drink with friends and random people and be carefree. Of course the consequence are also great- cases left unread, wallet left starving and acting gone trained. Technically, there is no pretending since that's my normal personality, but when the talks come to issues on relationships, questions on sex life, my half baked rationale makes the stage crumble and shake.
"Come on, spill it."
When the booze comes pouring and the smoke gets in your eyes, you know you have to be at your best(read: be cautious). Although alcohol never gets into my nerves easily, drunk conversation are reasons why there are talks of of the town the next day. And to be known as a great pretender is the publicity I don't need now.
"I mean, you have everything to make a girl fall."
You can't just throw up when stage fright catches you. But during this time of the conversation, it gets nauseating to actually get on your knees and continue the role. Flirting girls are flirting girls. Legs start to widen, lips get wet from licking tongues, and provocative talks fill the air with libido. But god knows how slut my friends are and how immune I am with this kind of situation.
"If you really want to, you can find the time to commit."
I hate explaining why I don't want to enter into a relationship. This entry is no exception.
"Saka, unlike female law students, you guys don't have to worry you might be intimidating girls."
There is this story in law school that creeps the women. According to the story, a group of law students from our school went to a bar. A group of guys approached them and asked their names. The conversation went well but the guys asked what's making the girls busy. The girls, proud, said "Oh we are law students from *bleep". The guys nodded their head and said their goodbyes. The next time they went to that bar, the girls introduced themselves as nursing students.
"You know you can always call me."
This is the part where the lights are supposed to dim and the curtains to fall. But this act is different. In this play, the actor finishes his role only when the lights go out and he is left alone.
I am seldom left alone.
Some of the worst mistakes of my life have been haircuts. So until now, I don't get the reason behind getting one after a break-up.
It came even before the Popoy-Basha thing in One More Chance. Friends would cry over one lost love and then a week after, it's like an entirely new persona without any trace of what was lamented. A lot of people I know turned to this therapy and looking at the frequency it is being used, maybe it works.
Everyone will tell you deserve better. But the reality is, no one is willing to give it to you. Maybe the whole overhaul part is to commence an entirely new chapter. New hair, new perspective. It may be placebo, but who am I to say. All I know is getting yourself fixed is preparatory if you want to be back in the market again.
Or maybe it is because it is easier to have a part of your body cut than to fight for what you really want and be left bruised and scarred inside.
And oh, regarding haircuts, I hate having one when I have an exam. I think I am cutting some part of what I have studied. See, my problems are surreal.
To seatmate-Follow your heart. (But you know I will actually say "Kike mo, mag-aral ka muna.")