March 06, 2009
My sister turns 22. Hopefully, she’s happy being where she is: our house.
My dear blogreaders, you have missed a lot of my days here in Silliman.
I ran for election—vice governor for CBA.
And at the almost end of the campaign, someone told me I could still apply for foreign exchange in Korea or Japan.
I’m processing it now….but the thing is, I won in the elections.
Happy Birthday to my sister.
Happy Birthday to the one I’m thinking about right now, and hope to forget.
Since the days the two of us were together—even at intervals we were separated by pride and barbed language,
I never forget nor DON’T text ‘happy birthday’ to him.
But now I intentionally don’t want to have any contact with him. I refuse to open any source (people source through conversation, internet source) related to him. The last time I “spied” on him and I shall confess this (but if anyone brings this up to me, I’ll deny it) was when he indirectly said I was ugly. Well, I’m not sure that I was that person….OC, fugly—whatever. But, it seemed like he was referring to me. I refuse to open any source.
It’s one thing that he’s happy without you.
It’s another thing when his evaluation of you sucks.
Now, I don’t regret when he miscalled me and I didn’t reply.
For what is a misscall?
What does it mean?
Is he killing time miscalling me?
He stopped miscalling me about mid-January.
But I knew it was coming.
I promised myself I wouldn’t reply to him unless he texts something reasonable.
So he stopped.
And the probability of him saying something sensible waned.
So happy birthday to my sister.
Happy birthday to him.
Friends, don’t bother commenting on this subject when you read this. I really don’t want someone real to talk to me about this. I’d like the silence of the virtual world to envelop me when I release such information to the net black hole.
Maybe when I’m ready, I’ll talk about it.