And I'm Still Emo

I was going to write something for him. I was going to tell him that I’m better for him than any other guy ever will be. I was going to list down plenty of reasons, stuff like “I know how to take care of you” or “I lost you too many times and I’m not going to lose you again”. Then at the end, I was going to say that I was talking about my old phone that my cousin is asking for.

But that would me immature.

So this is what I’m going to say instead: I still don’t know how long it will take for me to finally get over this friggin phase. I'm not even sure if this is just a phase or if this will be something that I’ll have to deal with forever.  I’m not okay, but I’ll manage.

“Who cares?” you ask.

The care bears care.

Tonight, I’m going to drown myself in music and booze yet again. The noise will keep me from hearing myself think, and the beer will numb my brain enough to quell whatever thoughts would get past the music. This tag team has never failed me before and I’m counting on them again tonight.

When I get home, I’ll turn on my laptop and move all of my files that have anything to do with him into a single folder. I’ll search every folder, read every article and play every video and sound clip and if they are in any way connected to him, I will place them in that folder. And when I’m finally done doing that, I will not delete them. I will just leave them there for easy access.

But if I’m too drunk when I get home, I’ll probably just sleep.

On Valentine’s Day, I will go out on a date. It will be a romantic date, with dinner and a movie, perhaps even flowers. I will buy my date a gift. I will make him feel just how important he is because, come to think of it, he’s been quite downcast these past months. I will do my best to make him happy. If you guessed that I’m going on a date with myself, you guessed right. It’s my first time in three years to be alone on Valentine’s Day, so at least let me pretend that I’m on a date with someone.

“That’s so corny,” you say.

Even the care bears don’t care.

“But what about sex? You can’t let that day pass without sex.” I won’t. There will be sex. No, not with myself. That’s not within my skill set. With someone else. I’m not yet sure who he or she or they will be. But it will happen. Then after the sex, while I’m lying there spent and catching my breath, I will probably ask myself again, “What the hell am I doing with my life?”


Putanginang yan, ano nga ba?

You can't tell me to "make up my mind" or to "stick to my decision". And neither can you tell me that moving on is a choice. Cmon. You should know better than that.

If you insist on either of those, then you haven't the slightest idea about love.