Solitary

Gah. Birthday yesterday. Not really fun.

But then again, what birthday is?

16's not a good number. And neither 20. Or 5. Or 1991. Or any other number connected to my date of birth in some way whatsoever.

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I'm guessing that yesterday was an unlucky day. Let me narrate the whole thing.

As usual, I stayed up till my birthday because I like being greeted at the break of the dawn of my birthday. Beats me. All I know is that when people greet you in that way and time, you are sort of special in some way to them. I like being treated like a special kid. Like I need to be comforted in THAT way.

A few people who did made me special was Vince, whom I convinced the day before my birthday that it was indeed my birthday on the next day. Next was my two best-terestest friends, Monica and Kyla. Next was Lourdes. I wasn't really expecting any greeting from my ex-seatmate. But, as it turns out, Lourdes didn't forget my disgusting birthday.


After that, I slept for a couple of hours. Then, I woke up early to devastate the lives of the people in our household by ordering them to do stuffs I want them to do because it's my birthday anyway. You know, those same old advantages you would easily get on your day of birth.

AND THIS IS WHERE THE MIRACLE VASTLY ENTERED MY SANCTITY.

I told mom the day before that I want to go to church early because of two reasons. One, it's my birthday. I have to thank God for saving my life, and for pushing me away from my suicidal days. Two, I badly needed His blessing.

We went to Quiapo church to hear mass. Of course, as expected, the throng is much thicker than my dead skin. And the heat was definitely scorching my brains out.

And you know what? I didn't give a damn on any of those distractions. Instead, I talked to God the whole time. I asked forgiveness for what I've done. I thanked Him for tricking the fool out of me. Everyone was right all along. The Great Depression that really did repress me for countless weeks was God's way of a mean April Fool's joke.

And it all was not a joke.

Anyways, after that, I felt really happy. Like I'm quintillion pounds lighter. I so can't believe I can pray again WITHOUT any doubts about God or whatsoever. All I know is that He's got my back for the rest of my hell-driven life.

I promised last night, an hour before my birthday ended, that I won't let insecurity get in my way anymore. So what if I'm obese? Are you as pretty as I am? Are you as perky and pesky as I am? Are you as smart as I am? You may be better, but I'm the best.

So, you may ask. where the fucking hell is that miracle this pig's talking about?

This is the freshest thing you'll ever hear.

Lately, in our review class, we were to have our mock exam in Physics. I was so drenched that afternoon and all I want to do is get back home and sleep. I was soooo drowsy. The sub teacher for Sir Jeff was fun I admit, but the hell I care. All I know is I'm going to get drunk with some beer and ice cream and some sleep for old time's sake tonight.

When the teacher handed out the very thick stapled paper that's face down on my desk, that's the time when it probably came to my senses that THIS IS A PHYSICS MOCK EXAM. If I get a low mark on this, I would be a total dumbass already. I hastily scanned my module right before the teacher had set the go signal. Before I wrote my name, I made the sign of the cross for the first time in months.

And guess who just semi-nailed it.

Uh-huh. It's me alright. The 2nd highest pointer in the class. God, I was so happy.

I KNOW WHAT I JUST SAID IN THE SENTENCE BEFORE THIS JUST PURELY SIGNIFIED HOW BOASTFUL AND OBNOXIOUS I AM. But when you're feeling the same feeling I felt at that same time, you'll also want to quasi-boast it to death. A thousand bucks says you will.

God really is there after all. He just held my brain a while ago.

I'm one of those luck ones who was able to prove his existence using non-geometric skills and definitions.

But it's still spinning in a theta angle because of one boy who became my signal fire with the reason that he stole my heart.

How Snow Patrol-y and Dashboard Confessional-ish could you be?

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GAH. 16. I'm not a girl, not yet a woman.

God, was Britney Spears right, or what?

Nah, she's not. Look what she just did to her hair.

That's definitely not a girl and not a woman.

That's a moron and a dumbass at the same time.

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INTERNET CONNECTION'S BACK.

HALLELUJAH!

(The upper portion of this blog post was brought to you by InGen Internet cafe.)
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Vince told me something I realized was really really really right all along.

He told me that he prefers chubby/fat girls over the normal/slim/sexy ones. Surprising to my head, I told him that what he just said is hypocritical and unrealistic because no boy/man would go for a fat ass in any other way possible. Personality is not really that key someone looks for somebody.

I asked why, then this is it.

When you choose a normal/slim/sexy one, that would be too conformist and normal and common. There won't be any challenge, because well, she's normal already. If she gets fat, you're also in fat trouble.

On the contrary, choosing obese ones would be the most mature and original thing a boy could ever do in this generation. If that obese girl slims herself down, isn't it like a big accomplishment? She wouldn't get any fatter, I assume.

But it's all based on the girl's personality anyway. A boy wouldn't definitely go for a chubby and bitchy girl all at once. That would probably be the cruelest thing this world can offer to a man.

Whatever.

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