I have been to a few places in this lifetime. Very few, in fact, for someone who has this huge, innate desire to travel the world. I was about five when I started going to school. I didn’t last a week. I was there for three days, the daycare. I couldn’t stand it.

My dad liked driving us to vacation spots every summer. Or whenever Holy Week comes, and we need to go to at least seven churches. I was thirteen when I transferred schools. I hated it, of course. I was never into school, though I never actually failed a course. In that ugly city, I loved you. It was where we met, and I think I would have hated it much more if you weren’t there. We used to kiss in bathroom stalls, in your room, in our friend’s brother’s room -- I loved you there, too.

It was my first time being up in a Ferris wheel the night you left. I loved you there, as much as I wanted to push away the new you and pull out the old you when we reached the peak of the ride. I loved you there so much that it hurt. I went to university at sixteen. I was alone in a city full of dreams. I saw you everywhere even though you were never there.

At this point, I know -- I just do -- I can love you anywhere.

How was your day? I hope it was bad. I hope nobody gave you flowers, nor chocolates, nor made you happy. Or better yet, I hope someone did, and then I passed your mind - just a little. Like tiny ants, creeping in, slowly, and then all at once - ultimately ruining the soft sweetness.

I hope you had the worst day.

We were kids.
I am getting the feeling that I would say that one day.
Defense mechanism, I think, I could develop.
It is in the back of my mind.
It would be a shame to say, I know.
I would degrade all my relationships into something so small, so inconvenient, so… young, that it would mean nothing at all.

We were kids.
And I did not know what I was doing.

We were kids.
And I wasn’t supposed to fall in love at that age, and maybe I wasn’t.
Maybe I was merely confused, driven by trends, and friends, and hormones, and the idea of falling in love.
Maybe I was teaching myself, trying to make ourselves believe - both you and I - that we were in love, that this is love, in one way or another; but perhaps, in all ways, we just were not.

We were kids.
And now I’ve grown into something far more beautiful than being young.

I am in this place now, where nothing is wrong, and if there is, it is not about you anymore.
I am in this place now, where things are not as big as they seem, so when they topple all over me, I get hurt but do not cry anymore.
I am in this place now, where youth is vintage, forgetting is easy.
I am in this place now, beyond somewhere I could have imagined when I was daydreaming at fifteen - inside a classroom, passing notes in Math class.
I am in this place now, where I could say that it was foolish and exhilarating and beautiful.

We were kids. We were just kids.
(I made myself believe that.)

in times like this – when i want to tell you a story, something, maybe every detail of today – where should i go?

i shouldn't – in all sense of the phrase – make it to you. i shouldn't. but this is it.

this is the snow from the road i managed to shovel aside;

this is the coffee i never intended on spilling (maybe i did want it to happen, deep inside of me there was an urge – maybe once, twice, multiple times);

these are the words i tried to stop from spewing.

so if you're reading this, i'm sorry – i expected this, though i never intended to – i miss you.

there is never a perfect night
only a perfect moment
only a perfect photo
only a perfect laughter
only a perfect embrace
only a perfect smile
only a perfect drink
only a perfect joke
only a perfect kiss
only a perfect cry
only a perfect speech
only a perfect word
only a perfect promise
only a perfect love

but never a perfect night

sinabi ko na ang lahat ng gusto kong sabihin
itinago mo na rin marahil ang lahat ng sulat kong nagkalat lang dati sa kwarto mo

tiniyak na nating hindi na tayo mag-uusap
tiniyak na nating hindi na tayo magkikita

ito na ang tuldok sa lahat ng tulang inakala nating walang katapusan.