the pacemaker

(for November 26)

I had difficulty meeting someone the past two days. I was so caught up in preparation for our group thesis defense: re-reading our thesis and checking for typographical errors, inconsistencies and incoherencies. Wow I just typed that word hoping that a read zigzag line won’t form beneath it and thus indicating that there is actually such word. And apparently there is.  *shout for joy* I was also busy for another reason, yesterday being my father’s birthday. Another reason to shout for joy 

But I made it a point to meet someone today so after our group defense and after the much enjoyed lunch at Congo Grille and the not so enjoyed movie ‘A Christmas Carol,’ I took a walk at the nearby streets of my apartment, still no sign of someone I could come up to and chat with without being mugged. I sometimes wonder why ever did I decide to live in a street so close to dangerous alleys.

Anyway the hours passed and the sky was already dark when I realized I had to visit my blockmate Stephanie to retrieve my roommate’s cap. After whining to Steph about my aching stomach, the aching by the way is due to my poor and irregular eating habits which has caused an abrasion in my stomach, I decided to stop by the seven eleven outlet just around the corner. It was there that I came across my new like-interest, my new crush.

With the sight of him, instantly my heart pounded in a way that it hasn’t for several months now. I say this with shame if I have to be honest. But of course I do. This is my promise as a journalist. To tell the truth and nothing but. Anyway you might be wondering why I feel ashamed of having a crush. I mean, it’s a completely normal phenomena. Even kids as young as 5 years old develop crushes; in fact it happens as soon as they recognize the difference between sexes and come across an attractive looking member of the opposite sex. Thus I shall explain myself. This shame originates from the fact that I am a 20 year old mature young adult being enamored by a 16 year old. It doesn’t matter how cute he is, he is still four years younger. And at this certain phase in life, four years is A LOT.

So now I go to the part where I talk about this boy. But before that can I just say that I think the reason why I am drawn to him is that he reminds me of someone I used to like very much. If what I am experiencing now is a starlet crush then what I had before was a supernova, on the verge of explosion to a full blown falling in love kind of attraction. Okay, moving on. This boy whom I’d rather keep unnamed is a very charming young man. He claims to have grown up in a country that used to be a superpower, a country famous for the legend of Anastacia. Like me, he loves football and claims to be studious, yet unlike me, he only claims to, while I actually am. His humor comes in copious amounts. But what actually is most interesting about him is his wit, how he can come across as a 21 year old when he’s much much younger.

So anyway, this boy says hello to me and we talk for a bit. I tell him about my gastric problem and he suggests what to eat to soothe the pain, completely unknowing of the fact that his mere presence was enough to distract me from my stomach. Then he offers to walk me home to my apartment. Yes. The heavens know how much I wanted to answer in affirmation, how delighted I’d be as I fall off to slumber, how that walk would be a walk to remember. But I couldn’t ignore the tiny voices in my head that came together like the sands from the desert that formed the mummy’s ghost. The voices kept repeating sixteen sixteen sixteen. And so I declined politely and said, ‘No, I’m good.’ And I walked away.
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I’m sorry, this might’ve been a cheat entry but it’s the best one I could come up with at the moment. My apologies.