CLOSURE. (...medyo private. context of the entry below to be disclosed in the near future)

Micharl is here in Manila. He called so that we could meet up in PP. Honestly, I felt kilig, then kaba. I mean, after all these years of not having to really forget what he did (or did not do, for that matter) and the pain I consequently felt, I had every right to feel that way. Unwittingly or not, all these years, the two poles of TAPOS NA and FUCK THAT ASSHOLE have been pulling me in both directions.

I was a nervous wreck on my way to PP. I asked myself "what the hell am I doing?!?!?" But whadapack, papunta na ako (in fairness, normal office clothes, not vengeful-beauty-clothes). We met at Mongkok. good thing his cousins were in the restaurant. They were nice and came from Davao too. We talked about the old times, of how he punched me because he lost to my team in the play of "shatong" and how i threw a stone at him because he punched me, how he can't hide his true age from me, how I can't believe that he doesn't have a girl (maybe not "a girl" but "girlsss").

Somewhere between feeling awkward and feeling relieved to see that he did not stay the same as the dream-of-a-hunk I so desired, I realized how futile and tiring it was to keep on being mad at him, or anyone for that matter. After a while, I even felt happy that he's here and I was talking to him like a real friend.

They wanted to watch a movie but I had to go home to study for my finals. His cousin took a picture of us. He put his arms on my shoulder... and i let him. Just like old times. I said goodbye. I went and did not look back.