Mid-September. Who would’ve thought that I’d be sitting here, yet again, typing with a broken heart. I thought this shit was over, but then I guess I thought wrong.

Here I go again nursing a broken heart. When will it end?

Knowing you, you probably would stop yourself from getting in touch with me. You probably rely on Facebook to know what’s going on with me. Yet you’ve probably filtered me out somehow so that if you post an update on Facebook, I won’t see it. You’re scared I’ll get hurt or angry. Especially if it’s with her.

But that’s ok. Maybe it’s good for me. Then I can move on.

But I’m scared that because it’s taking me this long to move on, that you’ve lost interest. Or that you’ve gotten used to the fact that we don’t talk. I fear I’m not needed anymore and that our friendship doesn’t mean as much.

I have a lot of fears. I’d ask you myself but maybe it’s time you focused on your new relationship. I need to learn to give space.

But know that I miss you. Like mad. If only you knew.

The echoes of the laughter and words exchanged filters through the thin yet nail scraped walls of my being.

You came as a silhouette of a figure that raced through my body, my soul, my being, my heart.

Life evolved into an indescribable happiness. An itch wanting to be in each other’s presence.

Then the tears, the pain, the good bye, the next chapter.

Why it had to be you, something I’ll find myself asking over and over again. But a question left unanswered.

But there is more to cherish.. And soon that itch will fade. And soon perhaps that question will be answered.

And soon, I will be ok.

I sit in the corner, nails scraping at the surface of my outer layer. Bleeding from the raptures of agony. Throat dry from the cries of the ruthless pain I feel.

Still I sit with this infection. Waiting for it to heal as it pulses through my skin. As my bones twitch vigorously.

The knee is connected to the leg bone, the leg bone is connected to the hip bone.

The infection has spread. Each connection, covered in scabs. The dead skin edging under my nails as blood starts dripping down. The anxiety of wanting it gone. The anticipation of the pain to grow. Just so you…

The infection. You.

I sit here with you. Waiting for you to heal as every part of you pulses through my skin. As I feel you twitching at my bones.

I feel you. You’re an infection.

But nevertheless, the advice that us alumni players gave were good and I pray to God that they take it all in in good faith.

And so I’ve designed to give in a design for the varsity t-shirts, and they loved it! I recreated the logo for the intrams medals. It feels good to actually contribute to a team that used to be my life when I lived here.

All I’ve said in this entry is all about you. It’s a given that it’s me. I am the one faced with all these responsibilities. Then again, it’s about time.

I am now being forced to think of the future. Now being forced to makes plans and goals. Not just for myself but for other people as well. From being someone who really only fended for themselves, here I am having to fend for other people.

The question I dare not ask myself is, can I do this?

My workmates have been chipping in on my hate for plastic bags and I’d like to think that somehow, I have influenced them in the minimal use of plastic bag. We all now share the love in hating plastic bags. If you feel the same way too, join this group and continue on TRYING to make Manila and the world a more greener place.

p.s. No I’m not a tree hugger. I am just frustrated with our clogged drains and the rubbish on the streets.

p.p.s. It should make me look weird. I’m entering the fourth month of being a pescetarian at the same time, I hate plastic. Will I soon turn into a hippie?