Here’s something they never teach you at primary school.

Someone will always be not over someone. Deal with it. If you get lucky, and if you’re good enough, you’ll be the one to change her mind. If you’re not, you’ll be the subject of a little bit of a playground tiff where in you kiss, you get a little dramatic, you imagine there might be fucking something more, but you find yourself sitting across the truth one day and you know—YOU KNOW—that THIS IS NOT THE TRUTH YOU’RE AFTER. Sure, pull off all the stunts you want. You’ll have a lot of them in your lifetime. You will have a lot of those freaking movie scenes replayed over and over and over again with you as either the protagonist or the antagonist. But you know what, two things:

1) Even if you SHOULD have kissed her and asked her to change her mind, if you never did—even if you went halfway but didn’t make it and you got into all sorts of weird stupid trouble anyway—IT WILL NOT MATTER IF YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT TO MAKE HER FEEL IT. Your stories about how you tried won’t matter—because you know what, you can pine about things all you want, but if you never got the message across, you will never get to say, hey, I have temporarily foregone my pride no matter how low or foolish I was just to let her know how much she matters to me, how much I would want to forgo all the games people play to make people run after them, but you never did it, you never told them how much you want to try, and how—god forbid—desperate, of you to make them want to take a chance on you, you will never EVER be able to say, I did it, oh fuck, I did it, despite all the irrationalities a human being can surmise.

2) And you know what, even so, even if you say fuck it, even if you have been asking the whole universe to make her yours, it matters WHETHER OR NOT YOU CHANGE HER MIND TO MAKE YOU HERS. And sometimes, it can be done if you’d be outrageous enough to do it.

Oh, yes, even if you know you’re just one huge stupid fuck for even bothering to hope, imagine and wish. Because in the end, someone will always tell you you’re foolish, and someone will always say you’re such a huge fuck for imagining there would be more, but in the end, it’s you, yes, it boils down to you and how fucking embarrassing you wanna get, and how long you can play that song which will prompt you to do stupid things, and over all, you wonder, is it really worth it—for you, for her, and for all that you’ve done in between. Now, you ask, is it really worth being so irrational over something transient in the first place?

My answer? Depending on how crazy you want your life to be. In the end, it’s your life. It’s your story. And it’s how bereft of side stories you wanna get. Because you know what? In the end, passion drives you. Your hunger drives you. And yes, even if it’s just one small kiss that you’re left hanging on to, at least you’re hanging on to something. This small thing will be pivotal no matter how many what-ifs you have—it’s about what you did to make it possibly happen. We’re all made of moments. And THERE WILL ALWAYS BE POSSIBILITIES.

So take that, you. This is my answer to all those moments we let slip by, and we hung around drinking our nights away pining over the incredulities of life. Move, damn it, move!

(lalalala, I’ll be going back to my wasteland of ideas)





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Someone told me something very revealing last night. I keep thinking I’m the one who’s a prey to people who make you hope, not knowing that on an analysis of things, I actually made some people hope for me as well. In short, paasa daw ako. And enumerated a list of people. Pota.

So, last night, I side-stepped on a possible crash site of issues. I went home early to save them from myself. In an instant, I became the protagonist who’s shielded everyone from the antagonist, who also happened to be me. Talk about dual personalities.

I should feel proud that I spared a life I could potentially mess up. But the romantic in me could not help but wonder.