Putangina. I am drunk as fuck. I just got home (quite literally) from Paolo’s house where my friends and I went to
These were the words I wrote before dozing off this morning. I didn’t finish writing the entry because the keys were suddenly swirling into an indecipherable vortex. As you can tell, I spent the day drinking. Again.
Yesterday was one of one of those days when I felt extremely ugly. I can’t really rationalize this silly notion, but it was just one of those times when whatever you do still makes you look like crap. Usually it takes me half an hour to shower, dress, fix my hair, and shove everything I need in my bag, but yesterday it took me an hour just to pick my ensemble for the day (6 shirt changes and 2 changes of jeans), and a half hour just to fix my hair. I wanted to wear this vintage-inspired yellow shirt (I was inspired to go yellow by Pie last Sunday) with my black pants, non-descript sneakers from Hong Kong, and vintage aviator sunglasses to pull off a glam rock look, but it didn’t go well so I ended up wearing this red and white striped shirt from American Eagle (Thank you Sophie, I am so loving American Eagle now, I wish they have authentic AE shirts here) and my corduroy pants from Folded and Hung.
I rushed out of the house to pick up an I’M SORRY cake from Red Ribbon to give to Trina, our friend who walked out on us last Thursday when we forgot she set this little get together for her birthday. After going to school to surprise Trina with it, Paolo, Gogo, JM, Bob, and I went to SM to walk around. Gogo actually wanted to eat Japanese, but we all decided to go to Paolo’s house instead and chill there. We got there around 1, where the guys played the guitar and drums while I sat and watched, stunned by JM’s drumming abilities.
There was a time that day when I thought I stopped liking Paolo. I don’t know what happened, but it did. The lyrics from the song BALISONG, which Gogo played in his car struck me: I try to tell myself wake up fool; this fairy tale’s got to end. Sometime yesterday, I proverbially woke up from a fairytale that was sure not to happen. But just as fast as my feelings for him disappeared, it came flooding back when Paolo and I drove over to a store to get more beer. I guess it came back when I realized Paolo treats me differently compared to other people. I can’t concretely describe how different he treats me from other people. He treats me like one of the guys, but with more affection. It’s not exactly the sweet kind of affection he shows for Pie, but he’s more caring with me than with our other male friends. I find it also adorable how sometimes he talks to me in English, knowing I speak Filipino fluently.
Around 4 we were joined by Carlo and Julius, and we started drinking. Carlo actually brought a bottle of brandy, but it was way too strong and we settled for the classic Red Horse. We finished at midnight, and after Paolo gave me a hug and a chaste kiss on the neck (it’s something we’ve been regularly doing when we part ways. He kissed me on the neck because I’m much taller than him), we went home.
Today, while enjoying my hangover, I thought about my relationship with Paolo. I’ve partially woken up from the fairytale I’ve weaved around Paolo and me, but I still like him a lot. I’m still extremely jealous of Pie, yet I know I must go on and try to ignore the balisong that is pierced through my heart. Despite my helplessness, I find myself happy because I know I’m lucky. I’m fortunate that we are very good friends and we have invested a certain degree of trust in each other. He may not be my partner, but our relationship is just as special, if not more. I’m happy that even though he is not mine, I have been given a chance to know him personally. Ultimately, I’m happy that even for a brief moment, my feelings for him were once requited.