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No offense, but you’re not my type.
Wait a minute.
Let me rephrase that:
While you are busy reading this article, try mo rin makinig sa episode namin:
If I could only choose I would never choose you.
Not now and not ever.
Should I insert bitterness along those lines?
Believe it or not, I mean no harm. Or being bitter.But sometimes I feel like kicking you. Okay I was just kidding.
And though it sounds like I’m bitter but that is not the case here.
Give me a case of beer I think I’d like to get drunk.
Having said that I do not mean there’s something great about me like how some girls usually say (most of the time were purely sour-grapes) I’m too beautiful, smart, sexy for this good-for nothing- bastard—no, that is not the issue, far from it actually.
And yes, I wish you were like that-some good for nothing, conniving bastard but you are not.
Though I would say that my first impression of you was this cold, self-centered guy, who’s not fun to talk with. Talking with you feels like talking to a stone. Maybe I could get a reaction from a stone compare to you.
And I wish I stopped there.
The first hello.
At first impression.
I wish I didn’t go further.
Because all of that had changed when I get to know you.
And figured you’re the exact opposite of what I perceived.
And though I don’t regret meeting you, there were times when I look at my ceiling and wish we hadn’t met.
Some people blame it on tequila but I guess I’ll blame it on insomnia instead.
If I could go back in time, I wish I just spent that night, that sleepless night staring at the stars above. Or read my pile of novels waiting to be read, or maybe just tried to sleep it off.
Maybe if I did that, these things will never happen.
These thoughts will never occur.
And these feelings will never be felt.
But fate had a funny way of interfering. Because here we are and we cannot go back.
Yes, I don’t regret meeting you but I guess I wish there was a better way to put this out.
And I wish, I really wish I could hate you but I can’t.
Not because I’m stupid but because I can’t really blame you.
For I am to blame.
I put this on me.
I’m in this mess because I jumped into it.
The stakes were high, and it’ll cost my heart, I knew it. Still, I did it.
I broke my own heart.
And for me to think that I could get away with my heart unscathed, what a fool I was.
You are not my type. Yes. But I find myself here, stuck in this mess and trying to make my way out of it, alive.
And though I don’t want it, but here I am falling and you are there, yes but sadly you will never be there to catch me.
But I guess I should have seen this coming.
You spelled DANGER.
But instead of running for the hills all I did was jump off the cliff.
You’re a bad news not because you’re bad but because I should have known better, there were signs with a whole lot of warning bells inside my head but I didn’t listen.
Guess my friend was right. I attract tragedy.
Guess this is the price to pay for turning into a wacko. A crazy demented fella I never thought I was. Oh, I know I can be a little crazy, but this? I’ve come too far and now all I can do is sigh and asked myself: What have you become?
Sometimes I don’t recognize myself. Is this really me?
I don’t think this is me.
So before I lost myself into the pit of hell disguising as a Garden of Eden, let me put a stop on this one.
Not to you, or to our friendship, no!
I wouldn’t regret being your friend. But I guess, give me time to heal.
When that word “friend” doesn’t seem too painful to hear.
And every word you say doesn’t feel like a knife cutting through my veins.
A goodbye to the feelings that will never be reciprocated.
So let this be the last time I’ll ever write for you.
After all, it was good while it lasts.
So let’s put the final nail and be over and done with.