I miss you.

(Not in a romantic way, though, but I do).

What happened? I still don't understand.
Well, I think I do understand what happened, but I don't understand why we can't start over.
I don't understand why you won't talk to me.
It's been over six months. We grew. So many things have happened since then.

For starters, you found someone.

I found someone too, though in a different way. But if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have found him.
I owe you one, man.
There are many things in the past that I've done and regretted (to this day), but being your friend isn't one of them.
Yes, I have thought about it, and it's true that you and I are not made of the same stuff.
No, I'm not sure that we can be as good friends as we were before.
But you know me. I want what I don't have.

Perhaps you'd like to know why?
One reason.
You introduced me to myself.
You forced me to reflect and say, "Hello, me. Nice to meet you."
And when somebody does that much to my life, I'm not keen on letting that someone be just a "someone I know". No sir.
That's why.

Argh, now I'm being mushy..Look, I don't mean to be all sensitive here, okay? Those days are gone. My intentions are pure. No sneaky stuff.

I miss being your friend.

Huh.

Let me tell you what happened the other day.
The week when it happened, I was very. VERY. Upset.
After six months of hard work, I found out that what I thought to be my hardest effort (so far) only resulted to the worst outcome I’ve had.
I also received some very entertaining remarks and accusations from someone whom I’ve put respect for since the day we met. Wait, did I say entertaining? I meant rude, offensive and appalling. Not to mention that this put me into a very sensitive and risky position for the next two and a half years.
I can’t talk to anybody because it’s really a silly thing to discuss about, and someone would just tell me that I’m a big drama queen (which I am).

It wasn’t a very happy week.
And then I had to go to work.

So, after deciding that I'm officially a loser, the next day I went to the office.

It was a class I’ve only had for two sessions. They’re OK, but dealing with seven sixth-grade girls whom I’ve only known for four hours wasn’t really my idea of fun.
Anyway, the project that day was to make Valentine cards. So of course I had to fetch all kinds of odds and ends the kids needed, guarding them to talk English at all times, see that all of them are making cards instead of talking about boys, and making sure that no small beads/food/drink are spilled to the newly tiled floor.
After an hour and a half, I was physically and emotionally drained.
I’ve just had it.
This is not what I wanted to do.
This is not how I wanted my life to be.
I’m so not cut out for teaching children.
Then one girl wanted a piece of pink carton.
I went to fetch five, and added some other colors so I won’t have to go back and forth in case she wanted more.
She didn’t expect it.

When I handed her the material, she squealed with joy and cried, “Thank you! I want to be your student forever!”

That’s it. That’s the story.

There are some people who would read this and go, “So?” And I agree with them.
So she said that. So what?
She’s just a kid.
It’s not like my life is going to get all better now that she said it.
Yeah.

But there are also some people who would read this and smiled, and nodded understandingly. And unfortunately, I agree with them more.

So.
You know.
I still think my life’s pathetic, but...

Maybe I don’t hate myself as much anymore.