Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Users. The gay world is full of users. Maybe that's why in this gay dating site that I have an account in, they refer to its members as "users." How slyly accurate.

I've met guys who ended up using me in one way or another. I've met a guy who was only there for the money and the free treats. I've met a guy who used me for my brain. I've met a guy who used me for my body. I've met guys who were only there for the attention. And through all those stumbles, somehow I kept doing the same things over and over again. My friends kept telling me that I never did learn what I should have. I listened to them. But then how can I learn to be somebody who I'm not?

When I give my heart to someone, I always give it whole. I never really learned to play games. I may pose to be a player, but deep inside I'm the Ned Stark of this gay world filled with thieving and scheming and lying Lannisters.

I've been dating this guy recently, and we've spent many nights together. And by that, I don't mean sex (refer to my previous entry.) He was actually like me in many ways. Only he was meaner. And he was shallower. My friends say that we even look alike. But then I thought that maybe it was because he was younger than me. Or maybe because we have vastly different backgrounds. So I always tried to see the best in him whenever we're together. Even if my friends who've met him told me that they didn't trust him. I did not listen to them because I knew him better than they did.

Despite his flaws, I resolved to really give him a try. Looking back, there were relationships I could have saved if only I tried harder. So I thought that with him, I wouldn't be the one who gave up first. This time, I'll try harder than I've ever tried before. Even if it was clear that he wasn't really interested in me. He never asked questions about me. he could put on his earphones and completely ignore me. That was rude of him, I know. But then, as I've said, I tried to understand.

One night, he called me while I was sleeping. He said he wanted to see me and he sounded frantic. So off I went to meet him in the middle of the night. But he did not show up. I was roused out my bed and he did not show up. He never even texted me what happened. But instead of getting mad, I got worried. Because I thought something bad must have happened to him. Surely, he couldn't do that to me.

Then later in the week, he stopped responding to my text messages. And I thought he was gone for good. But instead of getting mad, I hoped that he got back with his ex. As long as he was happy, I was good.

And then last week, he texted me, asking to borrow some money. He knew that I am jobless at the moment, and there had been days when I really had to skip meals. He knew all that. He knew how difficult my situation is at the moment. I asked when he could pay me back and he said he would the next day. So off I went to meet him near his place and handed him the money. But when I asked for it back, he did not reply. I texted him several times and he never replied.

And so here I am. Duped once again. Still unable to believe that there really are guys like him out there. All those weeks we've spent, apparently, he was only there for the free smokes. For the free coffee. For the free drinks. I thought, surely, after spending all this time with me he wouldn't be able to do something like that especially since I've done him no wrong. Especially since I asked nothing in return. He knew I needed my money back but did he even care to reply? No. It has been days since I texted him.

He just did not care, he told me. He prided himself in that. Maybe that way, he wouldn't find himself in a vulnerable position. While I was the one who cared too much. Giving myself away for guys I never really got to know very well. My fault is (and has always been) that I love too much too fast.

I've always thought that love was my weakness. But I realize now that it is also my strength. Because I cared deeply for my students, I was loved. Because I stood by my friends, I was loved. I have people who stand with me because they know I could love. Fiercely. Unconditionally. I can see it more clearly now. I am not liked because of my intelligence or my personality, but because they know that I know how to love.

These wrong guys, they exploited that in me. But at the end of the day, though I may feel hurt by rejection. Though I may cry because I was used, in the end I showed them that I could love. I showed them how it is to really love someone and I know that one day, they would all realize that. And they would know that not everyone they meet can love as much as I do.

All these failures in my life recently have exacted their toll on me. This uncertainty in my life right now. This depression that I'm struggling with and still couldn't overcome. These things made me lose confidence in myself. So much so that I think that I'm worth nothing now. Is it really surprising then that these guys treat me this way?

I see what I should do now. I should learn to love myself again. Yeah, maybe I can still love others but until I love myself, no one will love me back.

Earlier, I was crying. But I realized that I wasn't crying because I loved him per se. I was crying because I loved. I hurt, yes, and I'm not going to deny that. But I hurt because I loved. And like the song said, "Only love can hurt like this..."

I need no revenge, no. I don't need to hate on them just to make myself feel better. Because no matter how they may try to deny this, I know that I've got something that they could never have. They may claim that I have lost. They may claim that I am bitter. But in the end, what did I really do? I loved. I showed them love the best way that I could. And that's not such a bad thing right? There are far more worse ways to be remembered.

You're Mine

I wish I could see you tonight.

I wish I could bring you home and have you sprawl on the only proper couch in our living room. You would take a selfie while I was preparing our drinks and you'd play some of your music (because you hate mine) and we'd smoke a lot and then we'd get drunk, no, tipsy, and after a couple of hours you'd start to lie your head back on the couch and sing and rap and that's the sign for me that you're finally drunk. Though the truth is, it's hard for me to tell when you are really drunk because you always seem to be in control all the time. I tried to tell you that the last time you were here but I got sidetracked. You always could distract me, you know.

And it's really strange because we've met so many times already but we haven't had sex yet. Over the years I've met many guys, and we always ended up doing it, one way or another. When I bring you home, we just talk, that's all. And that's very strange, in my book. Well maybe I'd hug you before you leave and always, always you'd find a reason to untangle yourself from my arms and the next thing I know you're already outside the door, impatient to go. I enjoy those brief moments that I have you in my arms, you know. I enjoy them very much. Something about them just feels right somehow.

I often wonder what we are, you know. Although I think that from your actions that it never had been a question for you. I'm just a friend, that's all. A friend you have been spending a considerable part of your time with lately. A friend you can talk to about your interests because I share them. A friend, like you said, who has at least a semblance of depth.

I knew that at first, I was rushing us into a romantic direction. I kept dropping hints left and right. I kept baiting you. Well, it's because that is what I am looking for now. I'm looking for a boyfriend. But after a while, I kinda mellowed out since you were not responding. At first I thought that you were just not that way. You were not romantic. You were not sentimental. While I am the King of Melodrama (like you said). That got me really worried at first because we were too different and I knew we'd get in trouble sooner or later.

But I took all of that in stride and I adapted. I followed your advice. You've always said that I tend to overcomplicate things so I won't think about it anymore. At least, not very much. I'd take whatever happens. To us.

I remember that time when we were at home and I moved much closer to you than usual. And the next thing I knew I was holding your hand. I half-expected that you'd pull it away but you didn't. And I wanted to kiss you right then and there but it was really late and your Mom was calling you and it was time for you to go.

It isn't always like that though. Not all of our nights were great. Some nights I walk home asking myself why I even bothered seeing you. Especially when you get to ignoring me much more than usual. Or when your actions are much more confusing than usual. But somehow, the next time you text or call me, all is hastily forgiven and I'd be ready to go.

Sometimes I think that we're both playing this game where the one who falls for the other first loses. And it is obvious that I am in much greater danger of losing than you are. But then, the possibility of losing doesn't faze me anymore. That doesn't matter much really. I'm not playing this game to win your hand. I'm playing it just to be with you.

Sometimes I wish I could just let go, you know. That we could just both let go and be done with these safety nets and walls. I wish I could tell you these things when you are here, preferably in my arms, with you leaning on me. With the dim yellow lights and a suitably slow song playing warmly washing over us. I wish I could whisper in your ear: "I just wanna say you're mine, you're mine. Fuck what you heard, you're mine, you're mine. I just wanna say you're mine, you're mine..."

But tonight you're not here. So for now, I'd just sing to myself while sitting in your couch, wishing that I could see you tonight.

What Darwin Said

Three years ago, a friend asked me how I imagined myself in the future. And instead of spouting some typical response, all I said was that I imagined myself out under the sun, walking. That was all. My answer gave her pause. She did not probe my answer any further and we were silent for a while.

A few weeks ago, I met my friend who was set to fly for graduate school in the US. We were talking about how my former colleagues saw me now. "Your life is... a trainwreck," she said, spreading her hands. And I laughed. I had to laugh.

Some nights, when I'm alone in our living room, smoking and playing some music, an intense panic grabs hold of me. Telling me that things are too late now. That I've been on this downward spiral ever since I had the courage to leave the path which was set for me. That I was doomed when I took that first step. But eventually, after a few songs, that feeling dissipates. Because I've learned to tune them out of my head. There is no use dwelling on such things. "If I look back, I am lost."

Some days, when I'm out on yet another futile attempt to find some semblance of a job, I look back on what I've done to my life. I wonder whether all the important decisions I've made were wrong, no matter how right they felt at that time. Though I'm learning so much with my diminished resources, the uncertainty drags me down. It's like I'm suffering from this neverending anxiety.

I never really learned how to survive in this world. In my world, I'm a king. And I'm happiest when I could impose my ideals on the real world. My illusion of megalomania. My thirst for melodrama. All the regular academic achievements I've gained in the past, I never really strived for. They just came to me. So easily that I never really learned their value. Now that things are not being handed to me on a silver platter, I am clueless on how to begin. Who would've thought that this thrice valedictorian will end up jobless and increasingly desperate?

Perhaps it all had something to do with my albums. They've always meant much more to me than I'm letting on. There's so much more going on behind each song. Maybe I just really wanted a variety of experiences so I could be inspired to make albums with different themes. Because these albums, they will be my legacy. They're not mere records. They're records of my life.

But it isn't like there aren't any new opportunities coming my way. There are quite a surprising multitude of them actually. All these exciting paths, opening up before me. And yet strangely, I do not have the will to take any of them. Because my life is done. I am done. I feel it in my bones that I have reached the end. I've always wanted a fireworks kind of life and I got that, ultimately. I've given one of the best shows there was and my audience have oohed and aahed and clapped their hands off. And now I'm done and I'm just ashes falling to the ground.

Most people, they are aiming for something. And that is what gives them the drive. The direction. But me, I've had what I wanted. I've done my part for this world. I don't ask for much, really. And I don't want anything more. I should have been gone a long time ago. It's like I already missed my train and I'm left at the station.

I'm a man of the moment. I only live for the now. Logically, rationally, I should plan for my future. But that's just not me. I'm the man with no future. Literally. At least with the way I am living my life, I am consistent.

Darwin said that evolution favors those who are able to adapt. And I couldn't. So I should go. And I accept that wholeheartedly. Don't feign concern. Don't waste your time on me. No pity. No sympathy. No commiseration. Help those who deserve it. Help those who really need it. Me, I'm good. I'm good to go.

I'm not fucking depressed. I'm just brutally honest.

Risperdal

It was Christmas since I last saw him. And since my phone got broken, I lost his number and I couldn't meet him again. Then one morning, out of nowhere, he texted me, saying he found his old phone and he saw my number there. I missed him. I've been missing him the past few months though I didn't say that to him because it was rather complicated - what we had between us. We weren't lovers. We were just friends. But with, you know, benefits.

At midnight, we met, and we walked straight to this motel. And I couldn't help but notice how his arm kept touching mine. I thought that perhaps he missed me too. But I wasn't sure. Like I said, it was rather complicated.

And when the door was closed and I found myself in his arms, that's how I felt that he missed me too. It was great actually. It had been a long time since I felt like that. But it was only when we were dressed again when we could really talk a bit.

I asked how he was. Whether he was feeling much better now. Whether his life was more stable. He said he was living with his aunt now. He said she was watching over him since he had these migraine attacks. I was surprised because he hadn't told me about that before, and I've known him for more than a year now. He siad that his meds were expensive, and he even showed me some of them from his bag.

He handed me a pack of them, and I saw the name of the drug: Risperdal. And immediately, I felt this sinking feeling. Because I remember that drug. My schizophrenic brother used to take them. I told him I knew about the drug and for a while, he couldn't meet my eyes.

He finally told me about what really happened to him. How he had these hallucinations. How he felt so scared. How he got everyone scared. And I wasn't really surprised because I knew he was under a lot of stress. I knew there was something rather off with him. He kept telling me before that he was going crazy because of all the problems he was facing. And he did. He finally did.

It was late and he lived a long way off so we couldn't stay too long. I was about to ride a jeepney when he crossed the road to where I was. Let's smoke a bit, he said.

So I got to tell him about what happened to me too. I told him about how I stopped going to work. I told him I tried to kill myself this year. I told him about leaving everything behind and how I ran away to Bicol. I told him that I thought of him when I did both of these things because he has done them before. Both of them. I remember we were on the bed when he first showed me the scars on his wrist.

Then I asked him about his prospects. The last time we met, he was applying for a job. I asked him what happened to that. He just shook his head. And I realized that of course, he couldn't go to work now. He couldn't apply for any job since he's under medication.

And I felt even more sad about that because he used to be so driven. He makes me ashamed of myself. He has been through a lot, moving from house to house since his parents abandoned him. Trying all sorts of odd jobs just to survive. But now all that drive can't get him anywhere anymore.

There we were, two guys standing on the street. Smoking. I looked around me and for a moment, I felt surreal. It was like what happened to my brother all over again.

He looked better after we talked. He was smiling. And it was probably because he didn't need to explain much when he was with me. Because I've been there too. Because I understand, from what happened to me and to my brother, how crazy people's lives can be.

When I went home, I thought about how I used to imagine if we got together. I thought that maybe we could heal each other somehow. But now he's... He's gone crazy now for real. And I...

Screws

I placed the things I bought on the dining table. A bottle of gin, a bottle of iced tea to serve as our chaser, and a pack of chips. I then went to fetch the shot glass from the kitchen cabinet. I stole a glance at him, sitting on the couch in the living room and strangely, he was smiling. He saw me and I smiled back at him.

"Why don't you bring those over here?" he asked, still smiling.

"Okay," I answered. And I arranged the stuff we bought so we can drink while sitting on the floor. I also brought along my pack of cigarettes and the ashtray. I put on the "Evil I" CD on the DVD player but turned the volume down because it was quite late. He was looking at the wall where my diplomas and certificates were hung.

"So... you graduated from UP?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered without elaboration. I did not really want to talk about UP.

"What course did you take?"

"Chem."

"What's that?"

"Chemistry."

"Wow, that's a very difficult subject."

I simply shrugged. If he only knew how much of a failure I am now.

"You must be a genius," he added.

"It doesn't matter much. It's nothing."

He just looked at me, and I thought he mistook my tone for arrogance.

"I mean," I hastily added, "There are a lot more people more intelligent than me. It doesn't matter in the long run. Everyone has their own weaknesses. Their own strengths. Their own issues. So in the end, we're all equal."

"You know I'm beginning to be impressed by you. In fact, I'm already... 40% impressed," he said, still looking at my certificates.

"I'm not trying to impress you," I answered quickly.

"Of course," he said.

"This is yours," I said, handing him the shot glass.

"So you're a teacher," he prompted.

"Not anymore."

"Why?"

"I just want to try new things," I told him. "I want to live many lives. I have a weird way of looking at the world. Most of my friends do not understand me. I'm jobless at the moment actually, but I want to be a barista."

"A barista?"

"A barista. Like those in Starbucks."

"Oh."

"And I also want to be a DJ. Not in the radio. But you know, in clubs," and I mimed scratching a vinyl on a DJ's deck.

He just smiled.

"I love music. And I make mixtapes too. I compiled this album we're listening to."

"Your music is different, I noticed earlier."

"They're indie songs. I'm into indie songs right now," I said. And I talked about my albums.

"I told you I'm weird," I finished. And I looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"No, weird is okay. I like weird people."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I knew it the first time I saw you. There was something different about you. You're not like the other guys I've met. Most of them, they're very cocky. And they talk nonsense. You're not like them. And they're boring to talk to."

"So I'm not boring?"

"No. That's why I'm talking too. I don't talk much when I'm with other guys."

"Thank you," I said, and I struggled to hide the smile blooming on my face.

"I also want to be a writer," I added.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. That's why I like dating. I like meeting new people. I love hearing their stories. It expands my experiences. Like I said, I want to live many lives."

"So... So you're making me a subject?!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, sort of. Sorry," I said laughing.

***

"How many guys have you met from that site?" he asked.

That gave me pause.

"A lot," I answered simply.

"Have you met any decent ones?"

"Yes. I met all my ex-boyfriends from there. But I've been unlucky, these past few months. Haven't met anyone decent."

"Ouch."

I laughed, but I did not apologize.

His phone rang. He looked at the screen for a few seconds but didn't answer it.

"Who's that?" I asked him.

"My wife."

"Doesn't she know?" I asked. Although I knew that was a stupid question.

"Of course not."

"She doesn't suspect?"

"Maybe. But she loves me very much, my wife. She's a very good woman. Once her cousin saw me holding hands with a guy. Her cousin told her. She got mad. But not at me. She got mad at her cousin."

I said nothing.

"Don't you want to get married?" he asked.

"With a girl, you mean?"

"Yes."

"...No."

I wanted to add "Because I don't want to be unfair to the girl" but I thought that would be tactless of me.

"It's a wondrous thing, getting married," he said, and his eyes went dreamy. "You go home, and someone's there to cuddle with you. Someone's there to take care of you."

I said nothing.

"But I still like having sex with guys. With women, you have to do all the work. With guys, it's more laid back. Much more enjoyable."

I just looked at him.

"And with girls, isang kalabit lang..."

I didn't know what he meant by that so I kept silent.

"You should get married," he told me.

"Maybe. In the future."

"And I have a boyfriend too you know," he added, his voice already slightly groggy.

"Oh."

"It's great actually. They take care of you and..." his voice trailed off. "I'm so tired of this life... I'm so tired."

I looked at him and I thought of the story he told me earlier. How he came to Manila because he was brought along by a rich gay foreigner. How he was "collected" along with other boys and they all lived in this big condo unit. They were essentially sex slaves, he told me. How every night, when the old man was horny, he'd summon one of them to his bed. And after, he'd summon two. How they were forbidden many things. How two of them were thrown out because they fell in love with each other.

His was a story I thought I'd only read about in books. A story I thought I'd only find in indie movies. But there he was, a guy who lived that life, lying there in front of me. Getting drunker by the minute as he slowly slid down on the floor.

He was trapped in that lifestyle, I thought. Something from him was stolen and he wasn't able to recover. Now he's jobless. He's flitting from one rich gay man to the next just to survive. He's hanging out in Malate, hoping to find another gay benefactor. Joining "bikini opens." Selling his body. Just to scrounge up enough money to feed his ten-month-old son.

He's got no future. He was screwed up. He was trapped. He was... just like me.

"Come here," he said.

And then I kissed him. I kissed him as he lay there on the floor. And for a few moments, there was no one else in my world. No family sleeping upstairs. No doubts about my future. No uncertainties. No guilt at what we were doing. There was no one else but him. No one else. Nothing else. 

His phone rang and I looked at him questioningly.

"Screw her," he said as he pulled me closer.

Kanto Boy

It was past one in the morning when I walked out of the convenience store where I first saw him. He was lean, and he looked a little mean and I smiled since he was just my type. He nodded when I came closer but I noticed that he couldn't quite catch my eye.

***

He sat on the couch and I busied myself with mixing our drink. Occasionally, he would pull up his shirt and I couldn't quite feign that I wasn't looking at his abs. He wasn't there for sex, he told me. He was tired of that. He was there for friends and so a friend I would be.

I sat next to him, as a typical friend would. He was hardly talking in the beginning but slowly, the alcohol loosened his tongue. I listened more than I talked. He shared with me how hard his life was. How his family didn't care about him. How he couldn't get a job. How he tried to kill himself by overdosing on this drug but all he ended up with was a headache and I laughed with him when I told him he picked the wrong drug for that.

Then I told him more about me and I said that we were probably on the same boat. That I'm in between jobs and that I'm trying to start anew and that I'm leaving what I was trained to be. That I wish I could help him somehow but as it is, I'm barely keeping myself together. And that was when he finally started to really look at me. I wasn't sitting too close to him since I was acting all proper even though I was dying to get inside his clothes. And as I opened my mouth to continue what I was saying he kissed me.

And it was just like in the movies you know, what happened. I couldn't quite believe it. I've been with many guys but they never kissed me like that. They grope me first or they undress me. Sometimes we don't even get around to kissing, those other guys. But there he was with his hand on the back of my head and we were kissing and we were like, you know, lovers and I thought I liked that.

Then he told me that he'd like to spend the rest of the night with me and I warned him that my parents would see him in the morning but he didn't care about that and he just put his arms around me as we lay down on my bed. And after, when he was hugging me, I felt strange because somehow I felt I was safe with him. I was secure. And with all the men I've dated I realized that I've never really felt like that when I was with them.

***

I saw him often after that night. I'd text him after dinner and I would sneak him inside the house. I'd see him walking down the street with his hands in his pockets, a small grin on his face. And though he lives nearby, he never failed to gussy up everytime that he saw me. He would sit on the couch and I would sit on his lap and he would hug me and we would kiss and then we would fool around on the bed a bit and one time my father even caught us. We were fully dressed though, so it was somewhat okay. As if I cared about what my father would say. My mother did not approve of him though. Because he was a bum and he was your typical kanto boy and he just had this look that he was up to no good but I didn't care. My Mom has no say on who I was dating anyway.

One night I was horny and I wanted to have sex with him but he caught my hand as I was sliding it down his crotch. He asked me whether I loved him and I frowned at that and wondered whether he was joking. And I answered of course I didn't love him. Not yet. And he said no sex until I can tell him that I love him. And I laughed at that but apparently he was serious so no sex for me that night. So we just hugged and kissed and though my balls were blue, inside I was smiling at the thought that guys like him still did exist.

He looks great and all but it was the small things which I liked most about him, really. How he'd like to randomly take his shirt off and how I find that so manly. How he'd be so affected because the book I asked him to read did not have a happy ending he wanted to tear its pages in frustration. How he'd surreptitiously put his arm around me when we're in the jeepney and how he gave challenging looks to those who noticed. How we'd argue sometimes and how he'd say "No, I should be the one to do this because I'm the guy." How he'd ramble on about the cheesy things we would do if we ever got to be together and though I'd roll my eyes I liked hearing them all the same. Or how we'd just laze around on my bed in the afternoon and how he'd spoon me and we'd just lie there like that and how that would make me feel safe and taken care of.

He was a great guy, all in all, but after a while I stopped seeing him. I simply vanished from him without any explanation whatsoever.

And why shouldn't I?

He's got a boyfriend anyway.

And I knew it all along.

Biochem 3

Sana teacher na lang ako forever. Sana wala nang ibang aspeto pa ang buhay ko kundi yun na lang. Kasi kapag nag-aalala ako sa grades nila or kapag kino-comfort ko sila or kapag effort na effort ako magturo, nakakalimutan ko yung sarili kong buhay. Na kapag hot na hot ako bilang passionate teacher, somehow nagiging sapat na iyon. Hindi ko na naiisip na malungkot ako sa bahay. Hindi ko na naiisip na mag-isa pa rin ako hanggang ngayon.

Masarap yung feeling na na-aappreciate ako ng mga students ko kahit papaano. Minsan kapag ganun, may moment na feeling ko sapat na yun for me to go on. Yung noble happiness churva na yun. Nararamdaman ko yun minsan. Pero kasi paglabas ko ng classroom or paglabas ko ng school I'm back to being just "Bry." At kahit anong focus mo sa pagtuturo hindi ka naman magiging focused dun all the time. Haharapin ko din ang mga personal kong problema.

Sana ma-stuck na lang akong teacher. Sana ma-lock yung room tapos "Sir Bry" na lang ako forever. Kasi kapag "Sir Bry" ako masaya ako. Minamahal ako. Na-aappreciate ako. Kasama ko yung mga mahal na mahal kong students na kung pwede lang hindi na kami maghiwalay pa. Pero heto iiwan na nila ako. Ga-graduate na sila. At heto umiiyak nga ako ngayon kasi alam kong sobrang mamimiss ko sila. Na akala nila petiks lang ako on the outside. Puro patawa lang. Puro bitchiness lang. Pero deep inside nagpapanggap lang din ako.

Bakit kasi kailangan pang matapos ang mga bagay-bagay sa buhay ko? May darating. Tapos ma-aattach ako. Magiging friends ko sila. Tapos aalis na din. Aalis na. Tapos ako naman 'tong si tanga na nagpaka-attach kasi. Sana lagi ko na lang silang kasama. Sana may Biochem 3. Biochem 4.

Kasi bakit ako na lang lagi ang naiiwan? Puwede bang may mag-stay din for me? Kapatid ko. Mga ex ko. Mga kaibigan ko from UP. Ngayon mga AdU students ko. Sana lagi na lang kaming magkakasama... Sana may mag-stay din kahit minsan lang sa buhay ko.

Paano na ang soulmate kong si CJ? My one and only Mars at si Nuydy? Si Hard (now softer) Sheryl and Aki went to market? Paano na si Bebe? My Ate Mikko? Si Anton na parang reincarnation ni Jamila? Si Roy na nahihiya pa din sa akin at si Gui na never naman nahiya? Ang maliligayang moments ni Ate Joyce at Kuya Kenneth? Si Apol (na hindi pa din sumasama sa amin) at lalo na si Pards my new best friend?

Ayoko na di na ko makasulat iiyak ko na lang muna siguro to...