cheese-flavored

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You knew I wrote whenever I felt things, so you asked me to write you something. No deadline, you said, just write for you.

So I wait. Let random thoughts (about you, about me, about us) stew for a bit. I lift the lid, and it smells like the time is just right.

I apologize if you expected a poem from me, most of the things I am feeling right now would probably be lost in translation if I placed them in verse. Besides, prose captures cheese just as well.

***

Maybe there really is power in a Valentine’s Day. After all, that’s where the proverbial ball started rolling. We still called it Singles Awareness Day, though, when we decided to go visit the UP Fair, a random pair among a random group of batchmates, probably to see just how aware we were of our single-ness. We were the earliest, we decided that the crowds weren’t worth the effort, so we hung out by one of those huge trees near Malcolm Hall. I was quite stressed out that evening, which you probably heard in my answers to your “Musta ka?”

Amazingly though, you listened to every bit of rant that spewed forth from me, your eyes with that sparkle that only comes out when one is genuinely interested in what you’re saying, or in you. (Something I learned from observing students back then.)

Listen to each other, we did: over Friuli pizza and pasta, over Rodic’s tapsilog, over Brgr Project burgers. Needless to say, eat we did as well, as we talked, first about eating, then about everything else, until we filled in our mental gaps of each other between sophomore college and now.

No wonder we were extra tired after those weekend mornings we went jogging together; we were running around each other’s thoughts the rest of the week. Random texts, staying up nights high-school style, just to send those extra ūüôā s and :3 s as we slowly but surely became (-_-)zzz s.

The more we ran around each other’s thoughts, so did our run-ins grow as well: a rock concert, a post-rock concert, that rock musical where we held hands for the first time.

And, just like that, the summer ended with a bang-zap-pow-(insert lightsaber sounds here): on Star Wars Day, 2013, beneath a flood of Yodas, Darth Vaders, Stormtroopers, Wookiees and Ewoks, we made it official, our own New Hope. Maybe this one would work this time, we told ourselves.

These past months have been a whirlwind of images.¬†Candy Crush.¬†A soft copy of Sugarfree’s Manila Symphony Orchestra collaboration concert.¬†The Iron Man Mk-42 armor. A rainbow of macarons. Danboards and minions. Chow-chow puppies. Cobblestones in Calle Crisologo. A Lego Rockband set. Hand-chopped pesto. ¬†Jokes about jellyfish and Porings.¬†Prawns sizzling in butter and garlic.¬†And lots of purple, the shade of our office.

5 months now. So good, so far. So far, so good.

Vigan and Bohol are only the beginning. Onward to Baler, Cagbalete, Hong Kong, Singapore, France, Italy, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, the stars, infinity and beyond.

Happy Birthday, dear Angel. I love you.

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