So I’m not going to say my granny got me an iPhone when I already had one.. but in honor of our 200 followers, I’m going to give away a 32GB Apple iPhone 4! This unit is factory unlocked and openline already. It includes the handset, Apple earphones with remote and mic, dock connector to…
Our plans are set. I just finished downloading my favorite romantic comedy which we will be watching before we go to that fancy restaurant in Makati for dinner, and then probably stay in the park as we look at the stars and the water fountains like that one time we claimed was the night of our lives. Is it too dreamy to think of replicating it again with the thought of other me’s trying to one up every date they had with other you’s?
You know what? It actually is. Cause, just so you know, I won’t be picking you up at 6 tonight.
And no, not even 7:30 being “usual time,” nor 9:00 being “allowance time,” no. Thing is, I’m not picking you up at all. Not tonight, probably not ever.
But please don’t take it the wrong way. Please please please don’t ever think that I’m standing you up because you’re not pretty or something; or because I saw you holding hands with that varsity jock the other day; or because you don’t look fantastic today (which I bet you do as always); or even because I like someone else (which may be true).
I can seriously give you a lot of reasons why I won’t be going through with our Valentine’s Day date - school work, family, fatigue, bitterness, blahblahblahblahblah. But there’s only one reason I believe, and I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it now.
Soooooooo, by the time you’ve read this, it’s probably too late. In fact you’re probably reading this BECAUSE it’s too late. I mean, I’m too late. And this blog is the only thing that really connects me and you.
And by now, you’re probably starting to cry, and I tell you please don’t. Because you’re obviously crying for the wrong reasons and for the wrong guy. But not all guys are like me. In fact, I can make a case for being the only guy like me. And you just got to find other me’s who are not willing to put you through this pain every February of every year.
And so yeah, this is goodbye. Forever I hope, cause I just can’t find reason to stay anymore.
PS. One last request. Next year, ask your boyfriend to date you instead.
Because our bedroom light is fucked up, I have to stay outside in our family hall (don’t ask, I don’t name our rooms), where my mom is also here. But I can’t be expressive and all so every time I read something I like or just need the impulse to, I go inside our dark room and just sing to the absence of light. Is that weird? Am I weird? I hope so cause I was told you like weird.
It’s been exactly a week since I finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower completely, but it doesn’t seem as soon as that. Actually, it seems more of like a couple of months or so that I’ve been bothered about the ending, or the aftermaths of which, of the novel. I never read epilogues, save for Harry Potter cause HP’s always an exception, since I believe that the reader should be the ones responsible to create their ending, in the event vagueness is present in the author’s account. But I concede that Perks may be another one of these exceptions. I should seriously stop wasting precious hours of pre-slumber laying down trying to decipher whatever happened to Charlie, Sam, and even his sister. Sometime this week maybe. At least I can claim closure to a few things in my life.
God, that book changed my life. But come to think of it, I don’t really know why. If anything more, it just validated my views on human existence, particularly mine. Sam’s words to Charlie was a killer: “You can’t just sit there and put everybody’s lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love." Sigh. Such nice and wise words to live by, but it’s almost a given how nice and wise they are, but not how I can live by them.
And now I remember the part where I cried the most, and how much I wished that I was Michael to Charlie and that I never had to die so Charlie can be normal. But then again the book wouldn’t make sense anymore, so I digress. I couldn’t help myself and I just had to reread that part but surprisingly so, it didn’t seem as sad it seemed back then. Sure, I still teared up a bit, but it was more for Charlie himself, and not necessarily myself in Charlie which I have always claimed since the first page.
And now I leave you with my favorite line of the book. “We accept the love we think we deserve.” It was the context of how Charlie’s sister couldn’t stay away from her boyfriend who hit her physically. And now I apply it to the context of my life, so I ask you, does rejection of love concedes you to accept that you don’t deserve love?