Friday, April 8
Apr. 8 Fri.
“Alagaan mo siya, ha? Winawalanghiya nanaman nya buhay nya eh..gusto ko kayo ang magkatuluyan!”
...
I got my card, dropped my jaw at my tragic geometry grade of 84 [needless to say, I failed that quarterly test. Thanks to the preschool who kept singing barney songs the whole friggin time!!]
Well, at least my average was high.
Kuya and I roaming around the campus and carefully filling in a blank check, only to realize we spelled FORTY as FOURTY.
Beija walking around looking for death himself – or should I say HERself..only to prod me in the arm every half hour. *grins*
Coming home to a big white box wafting with humid heat and the smell of stale food, only to slump down in my bed to a celphone with utterly no messages.
Worry.
Sick with worry.
Go online, get a question instead of a decent answer..only to realize my worrying was not in vain.
Damn it. Damn me. Damn these blasted masks we wear.
...
The urge to take action. Cast aside the pride and shame, this is the love of my life, we’re talking about!
Rolled up my sleeve and tested the waters.
“I’m okay, really! I’ve just been asleep..don’t worry, of course I’ve been eating! C’mon..di ko na dadagdagan problema mo..”
An odd blend of emotions washing over me, frying my skin..anger, rage, frustration, love, and care..
And a faint smile creeping across my lips..
Damn..he’s good at this.. I would have said and done the exact same thing..
...
Let the other out..grabbing an imaginary collar and clenching my hand into a fist.
“I may be stupid, but I sure as hell ain’t dumb!”
The thought of someone hugging me tight and crying on my shoulder..melting my heart.
And the fact that the reason was fear of hurting me – broke my heart.
Why did we have to have so much in common?
Why did we both have to lead the same lives? Running and hiding and blindly slashing at anybody who comes to close..
Why can’t I seem to break his shell, when I’ve broken out of my own just to reach out to him and touch his half clown mask?
Why do I feel like I’m not the one, even if he tells me otherwise countless times?
Why do I patiently sit beside a kiddie tunnel, waiting for him to come out?
Why do I feel like I can make a difference? Grab him by the waist, hold his tiny hands in mine, gently pry him from the barbed wire fence, wipe the blood off his eyes, help him take off that blasted mask..make him smile?
Maybe im a dreamer too. Living in my own parallel world that I have created just to escape the clutches of Reality..
Maybe I can’t help him fly again..
But agreeing that we should share the hurts and pains is a start.
...