I am playing the same game again. I hate myself for doing it but if I were to be asked why I still do it, I would say only one thing. I’ll do this again and do the right thing this time. You think it still matters?

**

I am talking to him again. I didn’t ask him to talk to me. He just talked to me. I didn’t want to be rude. I have no reason to be rude. I was nice to him, I guess, although, a little far-off.

We talked like ordinary friends, like nothing has touched us both before, like we are old just-know-each-other acquaintances. I was glad. Not so glad but thankfully fine it’s over. I answered all his queries and I think I asked him a few too. I’m also glad I can speak up my mind not withholding anything. If I’m not interested, I can say so and he won’t be hurt or disappointed. That’s really neat!

He thanked me for talking to him. That was nice. He asked me if it was weird or strange or whatever talking to him. I said no with all honesty. It felt damn great! I wasn’t feeling anything. I didn’t care, didn’t care if he’d continue talking to me or just ignore me after an exchange of greetings and how-are-yous.

Though, honestly, I don’t like looking at his face. It must be the… y’know…

***

They say, when you bump yourself hard on something, apply cold compress to it to prevent swelling, bruises or if it’s bleeding, stop it. Let me tell you, it’s effective! On all kind of bumps in life, all we need is a cold compress!

Irat is a Karay-a* term which can mean a lot of things. It may be used as an insult or as a compliment. It may mean well-groomed or all the rage fashionable, pretty or just uberly made up. I have been called thus several times and I often hear the word whenever I visit my relatives on my mom’s side. It so happened that most of my cousins are girls, therefore it is inevitable that I shall be compared to them, also to my mom’s sisters, my Aunts. (There are six of them girls in my mom’s family, no boys!) I don’t like being called irat because I am not so! And come to think of it, they are the ones who wear skimpy shorts and nice shirts at home while I wear a too-plain rag dress. If you’d visit me at home, darn, you’d really catch me all in disarray. *lol*

***

I have been away from my cyber life for a few days. Those times were devoted to my real life here on Earth. As I’ve previously expressed, I spent my time with my relatives on my mom’s side. It was their annual barangay fiesta. What else can you expect? There was food and drinks galore! Though I didn’t take a swig of alcohol. The best thing I enjoyed? The dance galore! My cousins and I spent the whole night long body-moving and raving. There were at least five guys who asked me for a dance but I didn’t take heed of any of them. I only meant to take pleasure in interacting with my cousins who I seldom get to be with. Nobody can believe I can dance like I did. Everybody thought I was a bore. I’ve always been a bore… compared to my brother, that is. They’re all closer to him who is super friendly with a smiling face and the warmest hugs and cuddles. On the other hand, I’m the coldest brooding problematic child. Hahaha! I guess, my cousins enjoyed my company that night. We all missed my brother though. =D

***

Today, I went back to school to borrow a book from Rola. On the way out of the campus, I met Sir John, my teacher six years ago. I said hi to him and he smiled back at me calling my name. Yes, he called me Pam! *swoons* I can’t believe he still remembers my name. Gawd, I was so flattered, I almost missed a step. All the memories of my younger years flooded back to me. Suddenly, I missed the games that we played during his classes, the paintings that he showed us while playing an exquisite classic music, the rock and roll sessions with the Beatles and Metallica, etc. I’d remember them always, tucked safe in the special recess of my memory.