I couldn’t help but stare at this fresh-faced Assumptionista seated in front of me yesterday morning. I thought, her parents must be both great-looking to have produced a pretty little thing like her. I watched her the whole BF Pque – Makati trip. I watched her read a fat blue book. She was probably cramming for her finals. I followed her eyes move across the pages. Pretty doe eyes rimmed with long lashes. I noticed her lips were a purrty, dainty shade of pink– sans the lipgloss! She was unfazed despite the disturbing noise and cranky people around her. I was envious of her odd calmness.
Then the unexpected happened. She closed the fat blue book and reached for her cellphone, still unfazed. She was intently texting for a minute or two. Her white, slender thumb’s one quick texter. Suddenly, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, but her expression did not change. Little miss perfect and her perfect consistent composure.
She put her phone back in her bag and continued reviewing for her finals. She only wiped her tears when the shuttle reached Greenbelt-Landmark, where she got off for school. She got off the shuttle as if nothing happened.
My envy meter shot up as I assumed that the SMS that made her cry was from her boyfriend. Unlike her, I am in a state of self-conscious distress. And unlike her, I have not shed tears yet.
I wonder how she does it. Maybe it would be nice if we got together. Maybe we can exchange stories of love and hatred. I’ll ask her next time. I wouldn’t have trouble recognizing her, not because her image is stamped in my mind, but because I took pictures of her.
Stalker-ish? Yeah, yeah. I thought this shuttle story’s blog-worthy. So sue me.
Little did I know that after being a “stalker” in the morning, I’d be a “stalkee” in the afternoon.
I was sick and quietly multitasking around 3pm yesterday when I received an e-mail (with attached images!) from a deranged character who accused me of being a foolish whore.
Weh. If you know my anonymous basher, kindly tell her to scrutinize my San Beda and UP Diliman transcripts and inspect my Facebook Characterize application to have an idea of how ridiculously smart I am. Haha.
Oh, and please tell her I don’t charge money for ***.
Her “friend” might have forgotten to tell her that.
listening to: Estelle feat Kanye West – American Boy