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» I am eighteen years old. This diary is for my SECRET posts which NOBODY is supposed to see. It's my obsolete diary which I update in times of ANGST and weirdness. So please. Give me my privacy. 0=)

»loves: BORACAY! :D too many to mention. Books. Vacation. frisbee? high grades! music, clothes, family (sometimes) high school balls, travel, biking, clean air, history, old buildings

»hates: assholes, waiting, being broke, being ugly, being stupid, being mean, mayabang people, low grades, KABABUYAN, people who are full of themselves, desperation

»feeling:
lala

»reads: romance :D

over it
1:36 a.m. -- 2007-12-13

PAOLO. and that day under the tree. it was windy and i was happy and we, not you and i, but we conversed with him before he went off to class. still we sat under that tree with my hair blowing in my face, you reading the letter i wrote, just sitting closely, happily, perhaps even envied by a passer-by or two. (or was it just me all giddy and giddy inside?)

how different things are now.

what's in a name? how often has it been asked. but i think every time i see your name, remember it, it brings back not a recent, hurtful past, but a more distant, dreamlike one. the time when i first learned your name. the time when i was in awe upon having met you. i was eighteen, you were twenty. you said it was surreal--and it was. talking to you and being with you. i treasured your name and held it close to me because it used to be the only thing i had of you. was i so young? i feel as if i was but a young girl. with my daydreams and hopes and girly wistfulness.

now, every time i remember something beautiful that i think we shared, i have to wonder if it was beautiful for you, too. or if the whole time you were just thinking about how you would go about leaving me without causing too much tears.

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