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We went to Trinoma. (I still don't know which letters to capitalize.) Tricia, Mina, Jenny, and I. Tricia and Mina left earlier, though. So after McDo and Timezone Jenny and I went to Powerbooks.

She stepped in first. Nothing happened. I didn't expect anything to, after all. So I followed, and all of a sudden the two metal things by the doors started flashing red lights and an alarm started beeping, and I tried to just keep on walking as though nothing has happened, all the while wondering What did I do this time?

Buti na lang mabait yung guard. I had brought a book along with me, just in case our Trinoma trip didn't push through,

It made for a funny story afterwards, but no one in my family really found it funny.


There is one thing about the last day of the school year that everyone agrees upon.

People squander the last day of the school year in all sorts of odd ways. Some spend it being emo over what will never return, some use up all their excess spurts of laughter and energy, some force it to be memorable the last of anything should be, some try to keep things as ordinary as possible so that the end of the year they had gotten used to wouldn't hit so hard. Some spend it with old friends, some bond with classmates they didn't get the chance to know. Some stare in undisguised wonder at the fluffs of cotton floating over the field while others give comments about movie scenes they could create from them or about biological facts of cotton no one really wanted to know just then. People squander the last day of the school year in all sorts of odd ways, but there is one thing they agree on, and it is that it doesn't feel like the end.


I was made to be alone- he said it himself. Sweet, helpful, annoying in a way that didn't rankle- all the traits I had built up for myself were just that: for myself. My friends are there not to help me with my problems but to help me avoid them. I am made so that people could get close to me, but so that I could not get close to people. I'm incapable of it. I forget to avoid the pain and insist upon ignoring the fact that the pain comes because I forget. And if I wish that something terrible would happen to me it would not just be so that no one could tell me I didn't know what it was like to suffer, but so that I would finally be pushed down a definite path, so that I would finally be Jillian, whoever that is, even if she had been shattered completely by what she had to go through to get rid of me. Because I don't want to have lived the past three years of my life in a masquerade, and I don't know if that is something I should realise or if I'm being paranoid of the things I should be sure of. Because I was made to be alone, and I don't know if I should change that, or if it's too late.


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December 2012

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